Final Act
by Kariesue
Summary: To help Judge Hardcastle with a case, Mark must make some sacrifices.


**Final Act**

By: Kariesue 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. I don't own any of the Hardcastle and McCormick characters, I just wish I did!

A/N: A continuation of **_Time Moves On. _**To help Judge Hardcastle with a case, Mark must make some sacrifices.

Rating & Warning: T for slight language and situations.

A very big Thank You to Cheri for making sure all my i's were dotted and t's were crossed. And to LML for letting Prof. Sturgis pop in for a visit.

**00000**

"Nice shot, Ramon! I knew you could do it!" Mark McCormick caught the basketball as it fell through the net. The pride on the face of the young, dark-haired boy who had thrown it, did not go unnoticed. Mark looked at the next boy in line and uttered encouragement.

"Okay, Jake, nice and easy. Take aim, and then let it fly." The ball flew through the air missing the net by almost a foot. Mark clapped anyway and cheered, "That was great! You gave that one a lot more power. You're really getting better."

Mark continued to give praise and encouragement to the dozen or so boys standing in line waiting for their turn to throw the ball into the hoop. They were definitely coming along. He had been working with these kids every Saturday for almost two months and he actually looked forward to it each week.

As the boys each took a turn at the hoop, Mark thought back to how he had come to work with them. It was mostly Julie's doing. She hadn't actually made him sign on, but if it hadn't been for her, he wouldn't be here.

He had met Julie at the university the week of spring finals. They had started dating and had been seeing each other for over six months, now. He'd had a few moments of worry (all right more than a few, he admitted) when he'd had to tell Julie about his prison record. He had put it off for about three months, wanting her to get to know him first, before judging him on his past. She had been very upset at first, knowing that Mark had misled her. But she soon realized why he had done it and wanted to continue seeing him. While Mark had been waiting for Julie to make up her mind about him, he had done a little praying, something he'd done very little of in years. Mark had grown up Catholic, and his mother had taken him to church whenever she wasn't working. After she died, Mark had seen no reason to continue going. Until he met Julie. She went faithfully, every week. So Mark had made a little promise to God while waiting for Julie's decision. He would start going to church again if only Julie would accept his past. And she had, so he did.

Several months ago, the pastor, Father Mahoney, had mentioned he needed a replacement to coach some boys in basketball on Saturday mornings. In talking to him further, Mark realized that many of these kids were starting to get in trouble at school or even with the law. The point of basketball was to try and give them a more productive outlet for their energy. Mark could relate. He had spent way too many of his youthful hours roaming the streets looking for something to do. And it was rare if he found activities that were innocent and harmless. Wanting to give these kids options for something better, Mark worked hard at teaching them the fundamentals of the game, as well as the rules of fair play.

"Okay, wrap it up, boys. I'll see you next week. Remember, you can use the courts anytime during the week to practice." Mark waved them off as he saw a new group of kids start to congregate. There had been so many kids in the group that Mark decided to split them in two. The group that just left had been the younger kids but the boys shuffling onto the court now were mostly in high school. The guy Mark had taken over for had usually just stood by while the kids had run around the court, Mark had wanted to challenge them. This older group especially. Some of them had only been coming before as a kind of penance for small misdeeds. Since Mark had taken over, they seemed to want to be there a bit more. Not only did he work on basketball moves, he did his best to make sure they worked as a team. To make them understand that you need to utilize the skills of _everyone_ to make the team its best

Mark had gotten a great deal of attitude at the beginning, but after proving that he could outplay any of them, the grudging respect started. At this point, many of these older kids really were trying their best and wanted to learn all they could. There were only a few holdouts. He walked out onto the court and threw a ball at one of them.

"Okay, two lines," he yelled, "lay-ups on the right hoop and free throws on the left. Then switch. Let's get moving!" Mark watched as the two lines came to life. After several turns each, Mark was ready to set another task when a movement caught his eye.

"Rafe," Mark shouted to the slow moving figure approaching, "get in line and get a few shots before we start on the next drill." Mark looked as Rafael Diaz hustled into line and popped the ball right into the hoop. This kid was good, really good, but no matter what Mark said, he could never get him to show up on time. And he always looked like he had been up most of the night. Maybe he could get him talking one of these days and find out what was up. Lord knows, Mark could have used someone to confide in when he was a kid. He hoped Rafe felt the same way.

00000

"Do you believe this, McCormick?" Judge Hardcastle snorted as he folded up the newspaper in front of him on the table. "Joe Malone did it again."

"Did what, Judge?" McCormick answered in between bites of scrambled eggs and pancakes.

"He got off!" the judge growled. "The cops had him dirty and he got off. Seems the key witness never showed up. Some emergency at home. Only now, this witness won't testify and is taking another job halfway across the country. Damn it! I thought they really had him this time." The judge continued to grumble while attempting to eat his breakfast.

"Who is this guy?" Mark turned the paper to look at the picture on the front page. "Someone who made you look like a donkey, I'm guessing."

"Joseph Malone is a piece of garbage who has his hand in too many illegal pies. Racketeering, loan sharking, drugs," Hardcastle listed. "You name it, Ol' Joey boy has his hand somewhere in it. But every time he comes up in court, the witnesses suddenly decide not to testify or they mysteriously disappear so all charges are dropped. I'll tell you, I'd definitely like to get my hands on this guy."

The judge's mumbling trailed off as he turned the pages in the paper. As he finished several more pages, he noticed McCormick was working on third helpings. He looked perplexed. "How do you shovel away that much food without exploding, McCormick?"

Mark just sat back with a satisfied grin on his face. "I'm a growing boy, Judge."

"Yeah, well the only direction you'll be growing is _out."_ Hardcastle grouched. "Especially since you've only come out twice this week to play ball with me."

"Don't forget, Judge, I spent over three hours with those kids yesterday," Mark reminded him. "Those high school kids, especially, give me a work out. I can't just coach them from the sidelines. They won't listen to me unless I'm right in there playing ball with them."

"You're right there," Hardcastle acknowledged, as he had gone with McCormick a few times. "I just don't know where you put it. After the meal you ate at Thanksgiving, I wouldn't think you'd need to eat for another month."

"That was two weeks ago, Judge," Mark snickered. "Besides, how could anyone refuse Nancy's good cooking? You've gotta admit, she makes one terrific meal."

"Yes, she does." Hardcastle agreed, thinking of Julie's mom. "That was really nice of her to invite me over for Thanksgiving. I can understand your invitation; you and Julie are joined at the hip. But me…"

"That's just the way she is." Mark informed him. "Besides, the family had such a great time when they came over here for that Labor Day cookout. She was just paying you back. And, she absolutely loves entertaining people."

"Yeah, my wife used to love that sort of stuff, too." Hardcastle reminisced. "Nancy kind of reminds me of her. Of my wife, Nancy, that is."

Mark chuckled at the Judge's slight confusion. "Must be the name."

"Yeah," the judge chuckled, "anyway, you found yourself a nice girl there, McCormick, nice family, too."

"What'd you think of her Aunt Patsy?" Mark smirked. "Not exactly like her sister-in-law, is she?"

"No," the judge agreed, "I'd say Nancy's more like her brother, Steve. And the kids seemed all right, too. Patsy was nice enough, just a bit intense."

"She was nice to _you," _Mark accused, "because you're a judge and rich to boot. Me, I'm poorer than dirt and a nobody. I barely warranted a glance."

"You certainly got your share of attention from her son, Kyle," the judge observed. "The kid couldn't get enough of you once he realized you were _the_Mark McCormick that won the Can-Am two years running."

"It _was_ pretty cool. But truthfully, I'd still rather have _Julie'_s undivided attention"

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that, hotshot. She seems to like you for some strange reason." Hardcastle joked, then finished, "She's a keeper, kid, I'd hold onto her, if I were you. They don't make 'em like that anymore, you know."

Mark smiled as he thought of Julie. Her long, dark hair, her beautiful green eyes, those lips that he liked to …_Slow down, boy_. _You won't get to see her until she gets out of work later today._ Mark had been a goner almost from the first date. Julie was so sweet and innocent and nothing at all like his typical dates. _But_, he realized, everything like what he really wanted. Especially now that he was closer to reaching his goal than ever before. Another week until fall finals and then he would be in his last semester of law school. It was hard to believe that he almost had the finish line in sight. And once he was done with law school, he could take the Bar Exam and find a real, honest-to-goodness job. Not racing cars in between repossessing them, not playing Batman and Robin and _definitely_ not cleaning the pool, clipping hedges or weeding flowerbeds.

00000

"Come on in," Nancy yelled in response to the quick knock on the door. She looked in the direction of the front door and saw her sister-in-law, Patsy Lavoie, already walking from the front hall into the living room. As usual, she seemed completely flustered about something.

"Nancy, thank goodness you're home. Where's Matthew?" Patsy asked hurriedly. Seeing Matt sitting on the couch, with a copy of the Wall Street Journal in front of him, she continued. "Oh, good, you're both here. You need to see this." She was waving what looked like a magazine in front of them.

Nancy sat in a chair as she knew Patsy could sometimes take a while getting around to her point. "What is it, Patsy?" she sighed.

"Well," Patsy began dramatically, "Kyle was so excited to meet Julie's friend, Mark, you _know _what a racing fan he is, he went home and started going through all his old race magazines. He found a few articles, from years ago, when Mark won some races. But then, he found _this_!" Patsy started waving the magazine around again. She walked over to Nancy and dropped the magazine in her lap as if it had some contagious disease on it. "Check page fourteen and you'll see why I'm in such a dither."

Nancy picked up the magazine and looked at the cover. It was _Raceway News_ and the date was from about six or seven years ago. She flipped to the page Patsy had indicated and immediately zeroed in on the smiling face of a younger Mark McCormick. There were two pictures actually, and the top one was of Mark, in racing gear, accepting a trophy. The second one made Nancy's heart do a flip. A younger Mark, again, but this time in a suit, standing in what appeared to be a courthouse. His face was distressed and he had handcuffs on. Nancy quickly scanned the title of the article. 'From Pit Lane to Prison'. Before she could get more than a few sentences read, Patsy, again, spoke up.

"A convicted felon, right here in your house. You have to warn Julie, right away. The poor girl doesn't even know what she's gotten herself into. Maybe you should call the police," she suggested in a tone filled with alarm. "You haven't had anything missing lately, have you? Lord knows what he's planning. You should change all the locks and get a new security system installed." Patsy rambled on and on.

Nancy took the few minutes of Patsy's rant to scan the article. Then her words started to sink in. "Hold on a minute there, Patsy. Let's not be too hasty. I hardly think we're in any danger from Mark. He's never been anything but polite while he's been with us, and seems like such a sweet young man."

"That's how all those con men work, Nancy," Patsy alerted her. "They try and get in your good graces and then they take everything you have, without your even knowing it."

"Julie's been seeing Mark for over six months," Nancy reminded her. "I think there would have been some indication by now if he were after something of ours. The truth is, Patsy, he's probably just a nice boy who obviously made a mistake." Nancy indicated the article she was still holding. "He's attending law school, for goodness sake. He must be trying to put his life back together."

"He's probably going to work for the mob after he gets his degree. Ex-convicts becoming lawyers, the thought of it." Patsy shuddered.

"Oh, stop!" Nancy demanded. "You're being ridiculous! Mark has been in this home more times than I can count and he is _always_ well mannered. He treats Julie like a queen, and has been more respectful of her morals than any other boy she's ever dated. I don't care what he did in the past; it's how he's living _now_ that matters. Everyone has a right to make mistakes. He's obviously paid for them and now deserves the chance to start again." Nancy finished her defense.

Patsy's mouth hung open and then snapped shut again. She looked over at Matt who had been watching the whole scene with interest. "Well, Matthew, are you going to do anything about this? Your wife seems to have lost her senses in this matter."

"Oh, my wife's usually very sensible in most matters," Matt informed her matter-of-factly.

"Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Patsy. We know we can always count on you for information." His words seemed to dismiss her.

"I just hope _Julie _has more sense than her parents," Patsy snorted as she sashayed out the door.

Nancy looked back at the magazine in her hands and let out a small moan. "I certainly didn't expect this."

Matt looked confused as he commented, "What are you upset about? You just told Patsy everyone's entitled to mistakes."

"Of course they are," Nancy agreed. "But prison, that's a big one. I don't know how Julie will react when she sees this. She can't possibly know. She would have said something to us."

Matt reached out and took the magazine. He carefully read the article and commented, "It says here that Mark stole his girlfriend's car. Mark drives a racecar worth close to six figures and Julie drives a ten year old Ford. I think we're safe," Matt said sarcastically, threw the magazine on the coffee table and went back to reading the Wall Street Journal.

00000

"I never know if I'm glad or upset on Sundays," Julie wondered aloud as she walked into the living room after her shift at work. "I don't have to work again for five days, but I still have to go to class and study. Now I just need to jump in the shower before Mark gets here." She was just about to head upstairs when she noticed the strange look on her mother's face, "Mom, what's up?"

Nancy held up the magazine and cautiously commented, "Aunt Patsy stopped by today. Kyle found some old racing magazines. She thought we might be interested in this article. It's about Mark."

Julie picked up the magazine and looked at the pictures of Mark gazing at her from the pages_. He looks scared to death,_ was her first thought. Then she realized her mom was staring at her, expecting some sort of reaction. _I should have told them before this, _she thought._ Now I know how Mark felt when he told me. _

Julie took a deep breath and began, "Mom, I know this looks bad, but don't be too quick to judge." She rushed on vehemently. "You _know_ Mark has always been very nice and polite to everyone in this family. He knows that he's made mistakes in his life but he's paid for them, and now he's trying _very hard_ to put his life back on track. He's working hard in law school so he can finally _make _something of his life," she continued. "He treats me great and has never been disrespectful to me in any way. All _this_," Julie indicated the magazine, "is in his past. He should be judged by how he's living _now_, not on stupid things he did when he was younger. He just wants a chance to start over," she pleaded.

"You knew about this, then," Nancy stated. "That he spent five years in prison for stealing his girlfriend's car."

"It was _his_ car and he only spent two," Julie quickly defended. "He was out on parole for three." She nodded. "And yes, he told me this summer. I didn't say anything because I was afraid of what you might think. He didn't tell _me_ until I had gotten to know him a bit. I wanted you to get to know him better, too."

Julie's musings were interrupted by a soft chuckle from her dad. Both she and Nancy turned to stare at him.

"What is so funny, Matt?" Nancy demanded curiously. Julie wanted to know, too.

"The two of you," Matt snickered. "You both used almost the exact same arguments in defending Mark."

"You defended him?" Julie asked surprised, "To Aunt Patsy?"

"Of course I did," Nancy confirmed. "We both love Mark. He's here so much, he's like part of the family. He's never given us any reason to be upset with him. I just never expected anything like this. I'm surprised you never told us."

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry," Julie lamented. "Mark really hates bringing up his past. He had a pretty tough life and made a lot of mistakes. He just wants to focus on the future now."

"I can understand that," Nancy nodded in consent, then continued mischievously, "and where do _you _fit in this future?"

Julie grinned, "Well, he has said a few things that make me think he wants me in it."

"And that's okay with you?"

"I don't know, yet." Julie looked unsure. "I want to make sure I _really_ love the person I spend my life with. How do I know when that happens?"

Nancy smiled, indulgently, "Love sometimes creeps up on you and doesn't let you know it's there right away. Other times, it hits you right in the face and almost knocks you over."

"How did…" Julie began and then turned as she heard a knock, followed by the door and footsteps behind her.

Mark came up next to Julie and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Hey, Angel," he whispered and then smiled at Julie's parents. He noticed the magazine in her hand and gave a short laugh, "Where'd you get that? I haven't seen it in years."

Julie looked uncomfortable as she replied, "Kyle found it and showed Aunt Patsy. She felt it was _her duty_ to share it with us." She finished with a sliver of disdain.

Mark's face showed confusion as he began, "Why…?" then dawning came and he sounded startled, "They didn't know?" he indicated Matt and Nancy.

"I hadn't told them, yet," Julie finished regretfully.

"Oh," Mark replied awkwardly. He looked at Matt and Nancy and indicated the door, "Should I leave?"

"No, Mark, of course not!" Matt reassured him. "Come on in and sit down. Believe me, you have nothing to worry about. These two have been defending you like a mother hen with her chicks."

Mark walked over and sat on the couch with Julie a step behind him. Nancy sat back in her chair and folded her arms, looking strangely at her husband.

"And why is it, honey, that you don't seem at all surprised by this article?" Nancy inquired in Matt's direction. "Did you know about this already?"

"About Mark spending time in prison, no," he clarified. "But talking with Milt on Labor Day, he gave the impression that Mark, here, had had some trouble in the past. I figured he's living with a judge, it could possibly be trouble with the law. But, Milt certainly speaks highly of you, Mark, and he trusts you implicitly, so I figured whatever happened, is old news. Now, I was wondering…while you're waiting for dinner, any possibility you could look at the engine on my car? It's running kind of rough." Matt smiled.

Mark returned the smile, grateful for the change of topic. "I'd be glad to, sir." Mark got up, grabbed the keys Matt extended, and headed outside.

00000

Mark was just shutting the hood of Matt's car when he saw Julie walking toward him. She had obviously just come from the shower as her hair was slightly damp and she was barefoot. He never tired of seeing her that way; freshly scrubbed and casual in her faded jeans and navy, long sleeve henley style shirt. He smiled as he realized it was similar to the one he was wearing. He looked down at his shirt and back at her with a grin.

Julie just chuckled and said, "I thought we could be twins today. How's the car?"

"Simple adjustment to the carburetor, it should be fine now," Mark responded as he tried to wipe the grease from his hands.

Julie moved closer to Mark and put her hands on his shoulders. "What about you? Are you fine?"

Mark didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about. He shook his head and responded softly, "Yeah, I'm okay."

"I'm really sorry I didn't tell them before now."

Mark gave a small laugh, "I must be rubbing off on you."

"Rubbing off on me," Julie gave Mark a sly look, as her hands slowly moved up and down on his chest. "I like the sound of that."

"Oh, no fair," Mark groaned as he wrapped his arms around Julie, but kept his hands extended. "My hands are filthy."

"Yeah, that's too bad," Julie smirked as her hands continued their exploration.

"God, woman! You are a tease." Mark laughed. "I love it!" And his head moved closer to do what the greasy hands couldn't.

00000

"Two years in San Quentin? That place is supposed to be nasty, right?" Debbie stated in her usual blunt manner.

"It's no country club, that's for sure," Mark resigned himself to the question and answer session that was bound to come up. If he had thought of it before, he would have known that Julie hadn't mentioned his past to her family. Otherwise, this would have already taken place. _Maybe I was hoping they were so polite, they would ignore my whole criminal past._ _Fat chance. _Mark looked at his dinner plate and realized he wasn't very hungry all of a sudden.

"So, how can you actually be _friends_ with Judge Hardcastle after he sent you there?" Debbie forged right in and continued on in her outspoken way. "Especially since it's not like you committed a real crime. You took your own car."

Mark smiled indulgently. "You gotta get to know Hardcastle. The law is the law and he follows the law to the letter." Mark lowered his voice in an imitation of the Judge, "That car was registered to Melinda Marshall. The fact that you were co-habitating at the time is irrelevant. The fact that you signed it over to her was plain stupid."

"Co-habitating?" Debbie asked, shocked. "You mean you were living with her?"

"Debbie," Nancy sent the girl a warning. She could tell that Mark was feeling very self-conscious and Julie looked more than a bit uncomfortable, too.

"I was just curious," she defended herself to her mom and then looked at Mark again. "I mean, your old girlfriend, how could she sit there in court and let you go to prison? Just because you had a fight."

"Well, she never actually showed up for court," Mark replied with a slight trace of bitterness. "She was getting a facial that day. Her face had broken out due to all the _stress_ she was under."

It was Matt's turn to be curious. "Five years does seem harsh for those circumstances. What were Milt's reasons?"

Mark tried not to squirm, but knew he had to come clean with this family. They had always treated him so well; they deserved the truth. _Well, maybe not every little detail, but the Reader's Digest version should do._ "I think the judge was trying to teach me a lesson. It wasn't the first time I'd been arrested and he figured it wouldn't be the last. He was probably right. I didn't exactly have a stellar track record for making smart decisions."

"What had you been arrested for before that?" Laurie's curiosity got the better of her manners.

"Mostly stealing cars," Mark answered, but added quickly, "although I was actually repossessing some of them. In a few states, however, there's very little difference."

"Where did you learn how to steal cars?" Laurie inquired.

"In my neighborhood," Mark scoffed, "if you didn't know how to jack a car, you were in the minority."

"I thought you were a race car driver, why would you repossess cars?" Debbie backtracked in the conversation.

"When I was with Melinda, I had actually started making some money with racing, but it took a lot of years to get that far. In the meantime, a man's got to eat, sleep, put gas in the car that he's racing. Those things aren't free."

"No, they aren't," Matt agreed.

"I get in deep trouble for cutting class, or pulling some silly prank in school," Debbie wailed. "And Mark here breaks the law and you treat him…"

"Debbie!" Nancy scolded. She was about to continue when Mark interrupted.

"Debbie," he said gently, "be thankful you have someone who cares when you do something wrong. I didn't have parents around to tell me what I should and shouldn't do. You have _everything _you need here. A warm bed, a roof over your head, food to eat, nice clothes and especially loving parents who care enough to make sure you don't make stupid mistakes that could ruin your life."

Nancy looked at Mark with compassion and acknowledged, "I suppose when you're cold, hungry and alone; it's easy to make mistakes." She reached over and squeezed Mark's hand, smiling at him. Then she sat back, and with a big grin continued, "But we're not alone now, so I say we take out the Monopoly board," she looked straight at Mark, "and kick some butt."

Mark's grin followed hers and he replied, "Now yer cookin'"

00000

"So Malone's been kinda quiet lately," Frank Harper informed Milt. "I think that last trial made him slow things down a bit. But word on the street is that he's got a big shipment of dope coming in sometime around New Year's. I sure would like to finally nail this guy."

"Yeah, me too." Hardcastle agreed. He turned his head toward the kitchen and bellowed, "McCormick, where's the beer?" He turned back to Frank and grouched, "How long does it take to get a few beers out of the fridge?"

"Give the kid a break, Milt. He just got through with finals." Frank defended Mark. A huge grin came on his face as he continued, "Can you believe it, Milt. One more semester and the kid's finished law school."

"Yeah," the judge remarked, "he's done a great job. Course, I like to think I had a hand in rehabilitating him," he finished pompously.

"Hey, give the kid his dues. You should be proud of him for getting this far."

"I am proud of him," Hardcastle replied. "I just wish he'd get in here with the beer."

"Three ice cold beers coming up," Mark piped in as he walked into the room. He had the beer, plus a huge bowl of popcorn. He put it on the table and sat back in one of the chairs. "Sorry it took me so long. I was on the phone with Julie."

"The girl with the long, dark hair I met on Labor Day?" Frank confirmed. "She seemed nice, pretty, too."

"I'm surprised you aren't with her tonight," Hardcastle complained. "You two are like Siamese Twins most of the time."

"He's just jealous that I might like someone else's company more than his," Mark scoffed. "And she's going to the movies tonight with her friend, Cheri. Chick flick, you know." He changed the subject. "So Frank, what's going on in the world of crime?"

"We were just discussing Joe Malone." Frank said.

"You know, I was thinking, McCormick…" Hardcastle interrupted.

"Well, don't strain yourself there, Hardcase," Mark quipped.

"Does that smart mouth ever take a rest, McCormick?" the judge griped. "I was _thinking_ that since you're on winter break from college for the next month…"

"Oh, oh, no!" Mark objected, alarmed. "You can take whatever it is you're _thinking_ and put it back in that small, little mind of yours. No way, Kemo Sabe, I am on vacation. VACATION! That means, no work and lots of play so Jack doesn't turn into a dull boy."

"See, what I've got in mind is _definitely_ not in the dull department." Hardcastle filled him in.

"No, it's probably more in the _dead _department. I know you, Judge," Mark ranted, "your idea of _not dull_ is jumping in front of a bullet. Forget it, my jumping days are through. Why do you think I went to law school? So I could fight crime in a decent, civilized manner."

"I know that," Hardcastle replied as he played his ace. "And I helped pay for your law school, not that I expect anything back in exchange for that." The judge feigned innocence.

Mark slumped over with his head in his hands. He sat that way for a minute, then heaved a huge sigh, "Fine, Judge, you win." His tone lacked enthusiasm. "I'd be more than happy to help you with Malone. But I'm guessing I'll need my strength just to hear what you have in mind, so I'm heading to the kitchen to make a few sandwiches." He finished cynically, "Feel free to plan my demise while I'm gone." He got up and walked into the other room.

Frank looked at Milt and shook his head, "You should be ashamed of yourself, Milt. That was a dirty trick and you know it."

"What?" Hardcastle defended. "I told him he didn't owe me anything. It's not my fault if he feels guilty about something."

"You know as well as I do that Mark would do anything for you, _including_ jumping in front of a bullet," Frank threw McCormick's words back at Hardcastle. "And he's not so far off. Malone is dangerous, Milt. You and I both know it. Too many people have disappeared or died around this guy. We can't prove any of it, unfortunately, but it's true."

"We'll be on him every step of the way." Hardcastle insisted. "What can go wrong? "

"A lot can go wrong, Milt," Frank returned. "And even if we do nail Malone, you know he gets away with all his crimes by threatening or killing witnesses or their families."

"Yeah, that's where McCormick will have the most problem," the judge predicted. "In order to keep Julie safe, McCormick's going to have to break up with her and not see her until _after _he testifies."

00000

"Now who could be calling at dinner time?" Nancy sighed. "I swear, some people just don't understand manners. Julie, do you mind, sweetie? You're the closest."

"Sure, Mom." Julie moved toward the half wall into the kitchen, reached over and grabbed the ringing receiver. "Hello,…Oh, hi, Aunt Patsy." Julie turned so her mother wouldn't see her eyes rolling. "Yes, I did see the article, but I already knew. Mark told me months ago," she informed her aunt. Julie paused for another minute while listening to Patsy talk. Her face turned resolute as she responded, "I won't break up with him just because he spent time in prison. He didn't _belong _there. And he's trying to get his life going in a good direction now, and that's what's important."

Julie listened for a short time more. Nancy could tell whatever Patsy was saying was not making Julie happy. Her scowl was getting deeper and her eyes were getting moist. _I should have answered the phone,_ she thought. _Julie doesn't have the experience to deal with Patsy the way I do._

Julie was still arguing with Patsy and attempting to convince her of something. After a short burst from Patsy, Julie sighed deeply and coldly replied, "Fine, that's your decision, but I won't be there either. Good bye, Aunt Patsy." Julie hung up the phone, walked into the kitchen, blew her nose, then returned to the dining room table.

All eyes on her, Julie looked up, heaved another huge sigh and informed them, "Aunt Patsy says that Mark is not welcome at her house for their Christmas Eve party."

Three "whats!" and an "oh, dear," tumbled out at the same time.

"But Aunt Patsy and Uncle Steve have always let us bring a friend if we wanted to," Debbie stated, confused.

"I'm sure it's not my brother who made this decision," Nancy declared. "In fact, I wonder if he even knows about it."

"But, Mom," Laurie cried, "Mark is like part of the family, now. How can we go and not have him come?"

"I'm not going," Julie said, matter-of-factly looking down at her plate and pretending to eat.

"How can you _not _go to the Christmas Eve party?" Debbie demanded. "We go every year and it's always a blast."

"I think Julie's right," Nancy agreed, with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Maybe I won't go, either."

"Mom!" Debbie wailed.

Laurie looked at her mom and Julie, nodded and smirked, "I think I'll stay home as well."

Matt gave a small chuckle and commented, "I always liked a good boycott. I imagine Steve won't be too happy when he finds out we're not coming."

Debbie's mouth opened wide, "I never said _I _wasn't going."

The rest of the family just looked at Debbie, waiting for comprehension to dawn. They knew it would eventually, it just took a while longer.

00000

"Rafe, you got a minute?" Mark asked the dark haired teenager as soon as he had dismissed the other sweating adolescents. Mark was sweaty himself after the workout he had given them today. Let the judge complain about his lack of exercise now.

"Yeah, man, what's up?" Rafe asked, looking like he'd rather be somewhere else.

"Just wondering why you never show up on time." Mark was curious. "I could get you an alarm clock, if that's the problem."

"No, man, I got an alarm clock. They're four and seven and never let me sleep later than six am." At Mark's confused look, he explained, "My little brother and sister. I gotta watch them 'til my mom gets home from work. She works all night and don't get home 'til close to ten sometimes."

"I take it your father's not around," Mark asked gently.

Rafe snorted, "Got himself thrown in the slammer last year on some bogus charge."

Mark gave a little smile, "It's tough not having a dad around."

"How would you know, rich boy with the fancy car?" Rafe said belligerently.

Mark gave a hearty laugh. Rafe's expression became antagonistic.

"You want to know how I got that car?" Mark lowered his voice secretively. "I _stole_ it."

Rafe gave him a disbelieving look, "Right."

Mark shrugged, "It's not stolen property now. A good friend designed this car and was murdered for it. I stole it back and proved who killed him. His daughter gave me the car for helping her."

A new respect came into Rafe's eyes at this information. "So, you're not some rich boy slumming with us down here?"

"No, this is actually a better neighborhood than the one I grew up in, in New Jersey. You see _my dad_ took off when I was five. My mom had to work two jobs just to pay for our lousy, one room apartment. Course, I didn't have an older brother to watch out for me, so I spent a lot of time on the streets, looking for trouble."

Rafe smiled, "I bet you found it, too, didn't you?"

"Oh, yeah." Mark replied. "More than my share and then some."

"Well, my brother and sister ain't gonna get in any trouble while I'm watching them," Rafe told Mark. "And I've got a job, too, so my mom doesn't have to work so hard."

Mark showed faint surprise, "What do you do?"

"Delivery, you know," Rafe answered him.

"What, like groceries?"

"No," Rafe looked at Mark like he was crazy. "Like packages. Whatever my boss says I gotta deliver."

A bad feeling started creeping into Mark's stomach. "Do you ever look inside these packages, Rafe?"

"Of course not; it's not my place, man."

"Then how do you know what you're doing is legal?" Mark asked cautiously.

"The man says it's legal, so it's legal," he stated pugnaciously. "He pays me good money which we really need, so I'm not gonna question him, okay?"

"Be careful, Rafe," Mark warned solicitously. "You don't want to end up in the same spot as your dad. Believe me, it's not a fun place to be."

Rafe scoffed, "Like you'd know."

Mark stared seriously into Rafe's eyes as he informed him, "Two years in San Quentin taught me that I don't _ever_ want to go back there."

Rafe looked surprised as Mark finished, "You be careful! If you ever need anything, talk to me, okay? I can help."

Rafe appeared somber as he spoke, "I will, man, thanks."

00000

"Not again!" Julie squeaked at Mark. "You might as well take all my money now. You will eventually. If not you, then _her."_ She indicated her mother, grinning on the other side of the table.

Mark watched as Laurie rolled the dice and moved her game piece around the board. He leaned toward Julie and wrapped his arm around her shoulder and whispered suggestively, "If you run out of money, I'll let you move into one of _my_ properties. No charge."

Julie rolled her eyes, but still managed to blush at Mark's offer.

Matt cleared his throat and said seriously, "Mark, are you propositioning my daughter?"

"No, of course not, sir," Mark replied automatically, paused, grinned and continued, "well, actually, I guess I am."

Matt smiled as he took his turn with the dice, "Just checking."

Everyone moved around the board a few more times, exchanging money. Nancy smiled sweetly at Matt as he landed on one of her properties. "I'll give you a discount this time, but only so you'll have enough money to buy me a really nice Christmas present."

"Thanks, honey," he grinned. "So, will I be able to open mine early?"

"Maybe on Christmas Eve," she promised, "if you're nice."

"Christmas Eve," Mark started the question, "that's when Patsy and Steve have that big party, right?"

The room became suddenly quiet. Mark gazed around curiously, eyebrows raised.

"We're not going this year," Debbie supplied freely with just a trace of bitterness in her tone.

"Why?" Mark asked and _why do I get the feeling that it involves me, somehow?_

"It's nothing you need to worry about, Mark," Nancy calmly answered. "Just Patsy being stubborn."

"Stubborn about what?" Mark continued the questions.

Debbie, again, gave the answer, despite four sets of eyes willing her to remain silent. "We're boycotting the party until Aunt Patsy says that _you_ can go."

The eyes all narrowed as Debbie spoke. Mark's eyes closed and his head dropped. He gave a huge sigh and ran his hand through his hair. When he looked up again, his expression was distressed and he shook his head, "No, don't do this," he replied wearily. "Don't do this for me."

"Mark, honey, don't worry. Patsy's just being stubborn," Nancy promised. "She'll change her mind, I'm sure of it."

"Let me take a guess, this has something to do with the article in that old magazine and my prison record, right?" Mark speculated.

"Aunt Patsy thinks you work for the mob and you're going to walk off with the good silver. Ow!" Debbie cried out as Laurie kicked her under the table.

Matt jumped in, "We're really sorry about this, but Patsy can be a bit pompous at times, and she tends to go overboard with things."

Mark cut in, "Don't apologize for Patsy. It's not your fault. And don't think it's the first time this ever happened. People hear ex-con, they assume all kinds of things."

"Well, we don't," Nancy assured Mark. "And we want everyone to know it."

"And I appreciate it, really I do," Mark confirmed. "But, I don't _want_ you to do it! It's not worth it."

Julie put her hand on his arm and said softly, "We think you're worth it."

Mark put his hand up to caress the side of Julie's face, touched his forehead to her, closed his eyes and smiled. When he opened his eyes, he whispered, "Thanks." He gave Julie a quick kiss, then looked around the table.

"Listen," he began forcefully, "I'm _begging_ you not to do this. Call Patsy and tell her you're coming and that you understand. She's your family and family is very important. Take it from someone who doesn't have any. You don't want something like this to cause problems in your relationship. _I_ don't want to be the cause of it."

"Aunt Patsy'll get over it," Julie assured him.

"No!" Mark roared furiously, "Don't you get it? You can't desert your family just because you disagree with them or you don't approve of what they're doing. It's not right and I don't want you doing it for me." Mark pushed back his chair and murmured regretfully, "I'm sorry, I've got to go." His eyes were tortured as he gave everyone an apologetic look and walked toward the door. Julie looked stunned and started after him.

She glanced over her shoulder as she heard Debbie ask, "If he's leaving, can I have his property?"

00000

Julie caught up with Mark in the driveway. He was standing in the near dark next to his car, shoulders sagging. She made a slight noise and he slowly turned around. He let out a deep sigh and whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry," as his arms reached out for her.

Julie stepped into them and wrapped her own arms around him in a fierce hug. Her apology was quick in coming, too. "I'm really sorry, too, Mark. I didn't know this would bother you so much."

He leaned down and put his lips gently on hers while still holding her tightly in his arms. He continued kissing her as if he were drawing much needed energy and strength from her lips. After a few minutes, he lifted his head and murmured, "I needed that."

Mark scanned Julie's face and requested, "Tell them I'm sorry, okay?"

"I think they understand your feelings," Julie assured. "What I don't understand is what set you off. I don't think I've ever seen you this upset about something before."

Mark held her tight again, then steered her toward a stone wall a small distance from the driveway.

When they were seated , Mark began, "I've seen the damage, firsthand, that can be caused by family members not supporting each other."

"I take it you're talking about your family?"

"Yeah, I actually grew up with some family nearby," Mark started his story. "My mom had a sister and a brother who lived fairly close. I've already told you about my Uncle Edward and how supportive _he_ was of my mom, having a kid without being married. My Aunt Diane had three kids starting at the same time as my mom, but she, at least, married the guy. And then there was my grandmother. She'd been alone for a while; my grandfather died before I was born."

Mark stopped here for a moment as if he needed courage to go on. "My grandmother, I think, bothers me the most. She was actually great to me when I was really young. She didn't approve of my mom living with a guy, and she _hated_ Sonny, but she never took it out on me, not early on."

"Sonny?" Julie inquired.

"My father," Mark filled her in. "Of course, Sonny couldn't stand my grandmother, either. But Gram used to take me all over the place when I was young, especially after Sonny left. Sometimes, she'd just bring me to her house and we'd bake cookies or play cards while my mom worked. She brought me to church on Sundays. But then, when I was about seven, everything changed."

Julie put her hand in Mark's and waited for him to continue.

"Aunt Diane's husband was killed in a car accident," he started up again, "leaving her with three kids and no way to support herself. My Uncle Edward managed to get her a job at the same company he worked for. But that's when it all fell apart for me."

Mark sighed and continued, "The owner of their company, Charles Cooper, was retiring and thought he'd like some companionship. He'd met Gram through my uncle and started taking her around. Gram didn't visit as much anymore because Charles disapproved of my mom, and therefore, me. I probably didn't help any by being a royal pain in the ass whenever he was around. But, my seven-year old mind reasoned that he was the reason Gram didn't have me over as much anymore, and I resented it."

"They eventually got married, although I truly think Gram only did it to ensure that Diane and Edward would keep their jobs. The guy called _me_ a bastard, but I think he held my aunt and uncle's jobs over my grandmother's head. He wouldn't even allow Gram to have me over to the house. After that, everyone treated my mom and me like dirt. My cousin, Mike, told me his mom hated ignoring us, but she was afraid of losing her job. Charles still owned the company and expected everyone to bow to his wishes."

Julie listened intently and heard the pain in Mark's voice. _How could any woman do that to her grandchild?_

Mark picked up the story again to finish the tale. "Gram and Charles moved to Florida about a year before my mom died. At my mom's funeral, she was beside herself but still tried to offer me some comfort. Then _he_ pulled her away saying that dealing with it on my own would make me _tough."_

Julie leaned into Mark and slid her arms around him as he spat, "_Jesus_, I was barely eleven years old; how tough was I supposed to be?"

"You know most of the story after that," Mark continued. "Gram could barely look at me at Edward's funeral. I think she felt guilty about how she'd behaved. Especially for making me live with my uncle for three years. I'm sure the broken collarbone didn't lighten the guilt any."

Julie tried to read Mark's face in the dim light. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"I saw her a few times after high school. As soon as graduation was over, I got in my car, which had been packed with all I owned for a few days, and just started driving. I ended up in Florida. Course the few times I saw her, she seemed really pleased to see me, until Charles came in. Then he'd have some excuse for me not to be there, and he'd shoo me out the door. She never stood up to him. I stopped going by after that." Mark looked pensive. "That was almost fifteen years ago."

Julie ran her hand up and down Mark's back, in an attempt to comfort him. He responded by stroking her cheek. As he did, he discovered tears.

"I did it again, didn't I? Rambled on about my pathetic childhood. You need to tell me to shut up every once in a while. You're the only one I get this way with." He backed away to stare at her.

"I'm glad you trust me enough to share it with me," confided Julie. "And now I know why you were so upset with the Aunt Patsy thing. And you're right. Family needs to support family. Which is how this whole thing started. Everyone in there," she nodded toward the house, "thinks of _you_ as family, including me."

Mark just stared at Julie, speechless for a few moments, then pulled her into his arms again and groaned, "God, I love you, Angel!"

Julie's heart skipped a beat and it was her turn to be speechless, "You do?" she wondered aloud.

"How could I not? You are one incredible lady," Mark informed her.

Julie didn't feel incredible; she felt confused. She cared deeply for Mark, of that she had no doubt. Her thoughts ran wild, _but is this love?_

00000

"So, my snitch tells me Malone's still looking to get a huge shipment of drugs to be re-distributed around LA a week or so after Christmas." Frank Harper informed Mark and Milt.

"So what's the plan?" Mark quizzed Frank. "I figure I have a right to know, since it's my butt you two are putting on the line."

"Malone's got this right hand man, Manny Strickland, who does a lot of the business end of things for him," Hardcastle filled Mark in. "You know, like hiring muscle and such. Malone doesn't like to get his hands dirty or associate too closely with the hired help. We thought we'd hook you up with Manny somehow and let you work that old McCormick magic."

"Great," Mark smiled sarcastically, "I love hanging around with dirt bags. Reminds me of when I was in prison. Can we at least wait until after Christmas?"

"No problem, Mark," agreed Frank, "which reminds me, Milt. Are you two going to Mattie's house on Christmas Eve? Claudia and I will be there."

"Yeah, I'll be there," Hardcastle replied, "but McCormick here was invited to some fancy shindig Julie's aunt and uncle have every year."

Mark started to correct him, then stopped. _The judge doesn't need to know that I'm still persona non grata in many places. Or that I caused a potential problem in Julie's family. _He took a deep breath and wondered when this pain of abandonment and betrayal would finally leave for good.

00000

"Hey, Mark," Julie said, excited, "guess what?" She walked into the gatehouse and gave him a kiss.

Mark wrapped her in his arms and chuckled, "you won the lottery, so we can forget about school and get married next week?"

"Nothing quite so amazing," Julie glared at him, ""but my aunt called and said she'd be _happy_ to have you come to the party Christmas Eve."

Mark looked doubtful. "Happy? How did this come about?"

"My Uncle Steve called to ask why we weren't coming and Mom told him we were all upset that you weren't welcome. Uncle Steve immediately said that, of course, you were."

Mark started to interrupt, but Julie forestalled him. "Mom insisted that Patsy had to be the one to invite you there, as she was the one who originally didn't want you. Listen Mark, I know this whole situation has been upsetting for you and I'm sorry it ever happened, but Aunt Patsy is just stuck up like that. Uncle Steve loves her, so we all put up with her snobby attitude. You'll come, right?" Julie looked pleadingly at him.

Mark steered Julie over to the couch and sat down with his arm still around her. "I appreciate what you and your family have done, sticking up for me like that, but the bottom line is that your aunt invited me grudgingly, right?"

Julie didn't attempt to lie. Her eyes turned sad and she shrugged as she nodded.

"I know I should probably go, just to bug her," Mark smiled, "but since it is Christmas Eve, I don't think I will. Everyone, even Aunt Patsy, deserves to feel safe and comfortable in her own home, especially on Christmas Eve. If I were there, she'd feel uncomfortable, and that's not right on a night that we're supposed to be thinking about giving and loving." Then Mark added, "Besides, the judge is going to Judge Groves' house that night… I was invited along," Mark misled Julie to think he was also going. He knew it wasn't true, but he didn't want Julie feeling guilty about her aunt's behavior.

Julie couldn't hide the disappointment on her face. "You know what your problem is, Mark? You're just too damn nice."

Mark laughed cynically, "Yeah, that's what people are always telling me."

Julie played with a few curls near his ear and whispered, "Well, you're always nice to me."

"That's because _you're _so easy to be nice to," Mark replied, as he pushed Julie back onto the cushions and lowered his head. His lips assaulted hers as her hand further entrenched itself in his curls. "And then you'resooooo nice to _me_," he added. His lips moved from her mouth to her cheek, to her ear, and then to the base of her neck.

Julie tilted her head so Mark could continue his journey, then sent his words, dreamily, back to him, "Because _you're_ so easy to be nice to."

"Easy, huh?" Mark questioned as his hands moved to the buttons on her blouse. Julie swatted them away and chuckled, "Not that easy, buster." But after a few more minutes of Mark's lips on her neck, she didn't notice Mark's wandering hands again, as hers had already worked a few of _his_ buttons undone and started exploring themselves.

00000

"So, McCormick, that building right there is where Manny Strickland rents an apartment," Judge Hardcastle said as he drove slowly through the run-down streets.

"Nice neighborhood," Mark replied grimly, and with more than a little sarcasm. "So what do I have to do?"

"Frank has arranged for you to have one of the _beautiful _apartments right across the hall from Strickland's. We need you to get Strickland's attention and convince him, in a subtle way of course, that you would be a great addition to Malone's team." The Judge filled him in on Malone and Strickland's backgrounds, habits and hangouts, as well as more information on the operation.

Mark gave a huge sigh, "Judge, this Malone guy doesn't seem like the type who allows people to cross him."

"No, he doesn't," Hardcastle responded. "He keeps getting off by intimidating his witnesses or by making them disappear."

Mark looked distressed and muttered, "Great."

"Which brings me to this little problem," Hardcastle segued. "In order to keep everyone safe, you're going to have to break up with Julie and have nothing to do with her until this whole thing is done."

"Break up with her!" Mark yelled. "And what do you mean until this thing is done? How done?"

The judge pulled over into a parking lot before answering. "Look, McCormick, I know it's not what you want to do, but it's the only way to keep Julie and her family safe. And you can't see her again until after you testify and Malone is in jail. He wouldn't think twice about grabbing her and threatening to kill her if you testify. Or following through with his threat."

"Now hold on a minute, Hardcase," Mark growled angrily. "You never said anything about not seeing Julie during this whole thing. This is my semester break. We were going to have a whole month together without classes taking up all our time. And now you're saying I can't see her, not only the whole break, but until after I testify. And if I do, she could get hurt or killed. It could be months before this thing comes to trial, right?"

"Malone's been on the wanted list so long," Hardcastle said, trying to pacify McCormick, "I think Frank and I can get the DA and anyone else involved in this, to move the case into court fairly quickly."

"Fairly quickly," Mark grunted, "right! You know I might have to rethink this whole helping you thing, Judge. Judge, are you even listening to me?"

Hardcastle was staring intently across the street and started waving at McCormick. "Look, McCormick, that's Manny Strickland. The one talking to that kid in the red jacket. Now pay attention."

"Didn't you hear me, Hardcase? I said I'm not so sure about this whole thing." Mark turned to look in the direction Hardcastle was staring. His jaw dropped open and his stomach turned over. He groaned, "Oh, no."

"Oh, no, what?" the judge asked as he saw the horrified look in McCormick's eyes.

"That kid in the red jacket is Rafe Diaz, one of the boys I coach on Saturday mornings." Mark was beside himself. "He said he had a job making deliveries. I warned him to check to make sure it was legal. He's just so anxious to help out his mom. Damn! He probably doesn't even realize how dangerous Malone can be." _Damn It! Why did Rafe get himself involved with scum like this? _

_You know why, _he answered himself back, s_ometimes there just doesn't seem like there's a whole lot of options. Rafe won't believe me if I tell him the truth, or maybe he won't care. The only way to get him out of this is to break up Malone's organization. And that means not seeing Julie's beautiful face for way too long. Why can't life be easy?_

A range of emotions crossed Mark's face. _The kid's in turmoil here_, the judge could see. He wanted to use this to get McCormick to agree to help him, but knew that decision had to be McCormick's alone.

"All right," Mark got out, grudgingly, "I'll still do it, because Rafe shouldn't be working for someone like Malone. But," Mark added, "I tell Julie the truth. I won't pretend to break up with her. We can let everyone else think that, but I won't put her through that, thinking I don't care about her anymore."

"That's fine," agreed the judge. "We should probably let Matt and Nancy know, too, just so they can keep an eye out for anything suspicious. It should be fine, but we don't want to take any chances."

Hardcastle pulled out into traffic, then glanced at McCormick. He looked downright miserable. "Come on, McCormick. Look at it this way. With Malone behind bars, we'll be one day closer to making the street safe for good people like Rafe and Julie."

"Yeah," Mark snorted, but he didn't appear any happier than he had a minute ago.

00000

"Hey, Judge," Julie called as she walked into the kitchen. "The tree looks great. I'm glad you found that angel for the top, or should I say that Mark found."

"Julie, hi," Hardcastle replied as he stirred the large pot in front of him. "Yeah, I'm sure McCormick whined and complained about how it took him two hours to find the thing. I know I'll never hear the end of it. Is your mom all ready for tomorrow?"

"She is," Julie informed him. "She wanted me to ask if you were bringing your famous chili when you come over tomorrow afternoon? Is that it?"

"Yup," the judge confirmed as he took the spoon out and put the lid back on the steaming food. "I'm making a double batch since I'm bringing some over to Mattie Groves' house tonight, too."

"I hope Mark doesn't get a double batch of indigestion by eating too much of it," Julie said.

"Well, he's not having any before he leaves for that fancy party at your aunt and uncle's," the judge warned. "So he'll have to make due with what he gets tomorrow; unless of course they serve this type of stuff there. But Patsy doesn't seem like the chili type."

"My aunt and uncle's party?" Julie questioned.

"Yeah, he told me about it weeks ago, although he hasn't said much about it, since," the judge remembered. "It was when I asked if he was coming to Mattie's with me."

"Yeah," Julie murmured distractedly. Her mind was racing. _What in the world is going on?_

The judge looked around, "So, where is McCormick? I figured he'd be in here stuffing his face as usual."

Julie roused herself enough from her thoughts to answer, "He's playing with the engine on my car. It's acting up again. I should probably go check on him. See you tomorrow, Judge." Julie walked slowly out of the kitchen and paused in the hall. She thought she had it figured out. _Damn him! He's being all noble. He doesn't want to admit to either one of us that he has nowhere to go tonight. He won't go to Patsy's with me, but he won't admit to the judge that Patsy didn't really want him there and accept Mattie's invitation. We'll just have to do something about that._

00000

Julie got out of her car and caught up to her family as they walked up the steps of the Lavoie house, with its perfectly trimmed decorations and welcoming Christmas carols.

"I don't know why you didn't just come with us," Debbie pestered. "We all ended up in the same place."

"I told you, Debbie, I'm not staying very long," Julie informed her. "Mark's at home, alone, and that's no place to be on Christmas Eve. As soon as I say my hellos and mingle for a short time, I'm heading over there to keep him company." _I just hope I guessed right and he is home, and hasn't decided to join some other friend for a night out._

Before Julie could say anything further, they were entering the house and Patsy and Steve were giving welcoming hugs all around. When Patsy got to Julie, she looked around, then scowled.

"Well, where is he?" Patsy asked incredulous.

Julie answered, "He didn't come."

"What do you mean, he didn't come?" she whispered fiercely. She looked over at Steve and continued, "You made me lower myself to invite him graciously, and he doesn't even show up. The nerve!"

Julie was furious but kept her temper under control. As calmly as she could, but still getting her message across, she informed her aunt, "Mark didn't come tonight, Aunt Patsy, because he knew you didn't really want him here. He figured if he were here, you'd be uncomfortable the whole night. He said no one should be uncomfortable in her own home, especially on Christmas Eve. I know you don't think much of him, even though you don't really know him. But Mark is someone who thinks and cares about other people's feelings."

Steve stepped forward and gave Julie a big hug. "He sounds like a great guy and I hope to get to meet him again soon. I didn't really talk to him much at Thanksgiving. I'm sorry he didn't feel welcome tonight." He winked at her and said, "I could call him myself and see if he'll come."

Julie hugged him back and smiled, "Thanks, Uncle Steve, but I know he won't. I'm not staying long anyway. I'm going to say hi to a few friends and then head over to spend some time with Mark before we go to Midnight Mass."

"We'll miss you and your smiling face. Make sure you take some food with you for Mark. We always have more than we need, and we can't let him go hungry. As I recall, he has quite an appetite." Steve steered the group into the family room where Patsy had already gone back to circulating among her guests.

"I will, Uncle Steve, thanks. And you can get to know him better tomorrow night, when you come by for dessert. He and Judge Hardcastle are spending most of the day with us."

"I look forward to it," Steve replied, kissed Julie on the forehead, and moved on to another guest just arriving.

00000

"What a wonderful, friggin' life," Mark cracked sourly, as he flipped through the channels past several classic Christmas movies. _How do you get yourself into these stupid predicaments? Alone on Christmas Eve. _It wasn't that Mark had never been alone before, but these last few years he had started to expect more from life. He and Hardcastle had been there for each other for quite a few years now. And he figured he'd have Julie now, too. But here he was, alone, with no one around. He knew it was his own damn pride. Too proud to go where he wasn't wanted and too proud to let the judge know that there are still people who don't want him around. _And the worse part is, that you lied to the two most important people in your life. _Why was it this lying thing came so easy to him? Was it part of his DNA? Some mutated gene from Sonny's side of the family, no doubt. _Such a facile liar._ The words floated through Mark's head, bringing back memories he'd rather forget. He was so consumed by memories, that he didn't hear the light knock and the door open.

Julie closed the gatehouse door quietly after her, and watched Mark for a minute. He hadn't heard her; that was for sure. He had the TV on some Christmas special, but was definitely not watching it. He seemed engrossed in his own little world, but didn't look like he particularly wanted to be there. _The sooner I get him back to the present, the better. _Julie cleared her throat and smiled as Mark finally realized she was there.

Mark looked up from his musings at the beautiful angel that had come down from heaven to comfort him. His eyes came back into focus as he asked, surprised, "Julie, what are you doing here? You were supposed to be at your aunt and uncle's party."

"I couldn't stay there with all those people, when I knew you were here by yourself," Julie said as she put a plate down on the table next to her. "Uncle Steve sent some food and his apologies. He's looking forward to getting to know you better tomorrow." Julie took her coat, draped it over a chair and walked over to where Mark had stood up.

"How did you know I was here by myself?" Mark asked guiltily.

"I figured it out this morning, when the judge mentioned you were going to the party with me tonight." Julie pushed Mark back onto the couch and sat next to him, glaring accusingly.

Mark looked miserable, and sighed, "I'm sorry, Angel. I didn't mean to lie to you, but I didn't want you to feel guilty about your aunt. Don't feel so bad," he joked, "I lied to Hardcastle, too. I didn't want him to know that I'm still an _undesirable_ at some places. It's not easy being on the Least Wanted List, you know."

"Mark McCormick, stop the pity party right now," Julie scolded. "And you know you're not on _my_ Least Wanted List. As a matter of fact," Julie reasoned as she moved closer to Mark, "if we were at that party right now, I certainly couldn't do _this."_ Julie slid her fingers into his curls and planted her mouth firmly on his. She ran her tongue along his lower lip, then initiated a heated kiss. Mark groaned, slid his arms around her and leaned back against the cushions dragging Julie with him.

"No, definitely not good guest etiquette," Mark agreed. "But who said we couldn't have our own party, right here." Mark pulled Julie's head back down and continued what she had just started.

00000

Mark pushed himself away from Julie and came up for air, leaving her lying against the sofa cushions. He sucked in huge mouthfuls of air and tried to focus his eyes. Unfortunately they landed back on the bemused face of Julie, who was breathing a bit heavier than normal, also. Mark sighed and explained, "If I don't stop now, sweetheart, I won't be able to walk for a week."

"I'm sorry," Julie agonized. "Sometimes, I wish I didn't have such strong morals."

"Never apologize for who you are, Angel," Mark scolded her. "Besides, I could sit and watch you like this, forever." Mark smiled at the picture Julie made, with her long hair spread out around her on the sofa pillows. Some of the buttons on the front of her dress were undone, giving glimpses of her rather tantalizing attributes.

When Julie noticed where Mark's eyes had wandered, she looked down, blushed and sat up attempting to straighten her attire. "How do you manage to get so many of these undone without my noticing?"

"I think you were kind of busy yourself at the time," Mark indicated his shirt, which was completely unbuttoned.

Julie gave a guilty grin, and blushed a deeper red. She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her head. "I should go to confession with all these thoughts I keep having," she mumbled into her knees.

Mark pulled her against his side and reminded her, "Speaking of church, we need to leave for mass in a little over an hour. How about a quick nap so we'll be awake for Father's homily." He lay back against the pillows on the armrest and tugged Julie after him.

She put her head on his bare chest and stretched her legs out next to his. A smile came to her voice. "Do you trust me not to take advantage of you?" Her hand played lightly with the chain nestled in the soft hairs next to her cheek.

Mark chuckled, "You can take advantage of me as much as you want, Angel. And I'd trust you with my life. That's all part of loving you."

Julie's hand stopped its activity and Mark looked at her troubled features. "It bothers you when I tell you I love you, doesn't it?" Mark wanted to know.

"I just feel like I should say something back," she whispered.

"I don't want you saying anything until you're ready to," Mark informed her. "But I want to let you know how much _you_ mean to me."

"I care about you so much, Mark, never doubt that," Julie implored. "But how do you know when it turns into love, I mean real, true love?"

Mark smiled as he gathered her closer into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Well, I've had a few more experiences with trying to figure it out. Give it time, you will, too."

She lifted her head and looked at him with a mischievous smile. "So, I should go out and get more experience with men, is that it?"

Mark growled, "No! That's not it. Your experience starts and ends with me, Angel. I'm just biding my time. Finish school, get a job, start making some money. Then I can think about all these dreams that include you and me, forever. By then, you should have it figured out, too."

Julie still didn't know exactly how deep her feelings were for Mark, but when he spoke of the future that way, her insides got all tingly and she felt a warmth and contentment spread throughout her body. She figured that was a good sign.

00000

"Hey Judge, you getting up today?" Mark called up the stairs on Christmas morning.

Hardcastle pulled on his bathrobe and started down the stairs. This was the only day of the year he ever knew McCormick to be awake before him. Sometimes, he wondered if the kid was three or thirty-three. _But I suppose any time I don't have to traipse down to the gatehouse, and haul his butt out of bed, is a blessing_.

And there he was, at the bottom of the stairs, like an excited puppy. He had on his ratty old, blue bathrobe, his hair was sticking up in places and his feet were bare. _Figures, not even enough sense to put shoes on his feet._ It was December, for goodness sake. Okay, so it was California, but it was still chilly in the early mornings in December, even in California.

"All right, keep your pants on, McCormick," grumbled Hardcastle, as he made his way into the den.

"Look, I made you a cup of coffee," Mark placated the judge, pointing to the desk. "I know how grumpy you can get before you have your coffee."

"I do _not_ get grumpy before my coffee," Hardcastle objected.

"No, not grumpy at all," Mark revised, facetiously. "Come on, Judge, drink your coffee so we can open up presents."

"What's the big rush? They're still gonna be there in a few minutes. Can't we eat breakfast first?"

"Noooo, breakfast will take too long," whined Mark. "Just open them now, and then we can go eat. I'll even do all the cooking and cleaning. Okay?"

"Fine," Hardcastle resigned with a smirk. He knew he was going to give in, he just wanted to see how far McCormick would go, to get his way.

They both moved over by the tree and Mark handed a very long, thin present to the judge.

Hardcastle looked at it curiously, then started to unwrap it. When he had gotten the wrapping paper off, he was stunned.

"When did you get this, kiddo?" he asked, looking at the fishing pole he had been wanting to buy for a while now.

"I picked it up last week. It _is_ the one you wanted, right," Mark confirmed.

"Yeah, it's exactly what I need up at the lake cottage. But, you didn't go and spend all your savings on this, did you?

"No, I've been helping E.J. occasionally on weekends, out at the new racetrack he set up," Mark disclosed. "I've been testing out a few cars, and training some of the less experienced drivers on the track. E.J. can't do any of that himself, so he's been having a few of us old timers come in to help. And he pays me for it."

"I knew you'd been going up there to see him. I just didn't realize you were still racing."

"It's not racing, exactly," Mark clarified. "Mostly just showing the new kids how to drive without killing themselves, and a few test trials on some of the new engines E.J. has been developing. He won't trust the young kids with those, yet."

"Well, that's great then, kiddo. I didn't know you were still interested in racing."

"I'll always be _interested _in it, Judge," Mark corrected. "It was my career of choice for a long time. I know I've got different goals now, but racing is in my blood. I can't imagine a time that I won't follow it to some degree." He quickly flipped the conversation back again. "But the fishing rod, you like it?"

"Yeah, it's great!" Hardcastle praised. "We'll have to head up there soon and use it. Now, it's your turn."

"Okay," Mark happily obliged and turned back to the tree and attempted to lift his present.

"What have you got in here, Hardcase, bricks?" Mark protested. "You giving me a subtle hint to move out and build my own house, like the three little pigs?"

"At least I'm giving you the bricks and not the sticks or straw," snickered the judge. "No, just open it, will ya."

Mark unwrapped the box in no time flat, paper flying. The judge always got a kick out of the way he was so exuberant in this endeavor. Again, the three-year-old came to mind.

As Mark looked in the box, his face filled with awe. "Judge, you didn't? I can't believe…"

"Don't get too excited," Hardcastle advised, as Mark held up one of the law books. "It's only a few to start you off. But, I figure you can build from here."

Mark looked at the half dozen or more law books in the box and felt a true Christmas warmth all the way down to his toes. It wasn't the price or the gift that gave him that feeling. It was the message that came with the gift. Hardcastle was telling him, in his own unique way, that he was proud of what Mark was doing and knew he would succeed.

00000

"Nancy, you outdid yourself," Judge Hardcastle commented as he handed his plate to McCormick who was helping Julie clear the table. "I can see why McCormick spends so much time here. I thought he was coming over for Julie. Now I see it's really for your great cooking."

"As much as I'd like to take the credit," Nancy grinned, "I think Julie's the larger draw here."

"Duh!" Debbie commented. She was standing in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen, and had a disgusted look on her face.

"What's the matter, pumpkin?" Matt asked.

The appalled look never left her face as she whined, "They're at it again."

Nancy, Matt and Milt glanced past Debbie into the kitchen and realized why she was rolling her eyes. Mark had Julie backed against a cabinet, with an arm on either side of her, and their lips were locked.

Matt and Nancy just shook their heads, but Hardcastle bellowed, "McCormick, get your hands off that girl."

There was a soft chuckle as Mark responded, "My hands aren't touching her, Judge. Besides, we're just washing the dishes."

Hardcastle looked back at Matt and Nancy and grumbled, "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Come on, Milt, you remember what it was like to be young and in love, don't you?" Nancy reminded him.

"Yeah, but I never started necking with my girl in front of her parents," he replied gruffly.

"They usually go down to the family room for that," chuckled Matt. "Yup, right on time," he finished as Mark and Julie walked down the hall, away from the kitchen.

Milt felt somewhat uncomfortable at this thought, but Nancy relieved his mind. "It's not a problem, Milt. Mark is so respectful of Julie, we honestly don't have to worry."

"He's a good kid, Milt," Matt said. "We like him."

Hardcastle shook his head. "Yeah, he's really come along. When he first came to live with me, I thought I'd never grind the rough edges off him. He surprised me with how fast he shaped up."

"Maybe," suggested Nancy, "he was just waiting for someone to care enough about him, to have a reason to change."

The judge was uncomfortable with this kind of deep, emotional thinking, but realized Nancy probably had a point. "Yeah, McCormick hasn't had too many people care about him in his life. Not since he was a young kid, anyway."

Nancy smiled, "Sometimes, he still seems like a young child. He got so excited helping me decorate Christmas cookies a few days ago. You'd think he'd never done it before."

"He may not have," the judge contemplated. "Not much, anyway. Our old housekeeper, Sarah, used to let him, now and then, before she retired. You know his mom died when he was about ten. Then he lived with an abusive uncle for a while, before being on his own."

"With his history," Matt said, "I'm surprised that he's as good-hearted as he is."

Hardcastle appeared introspected, "Sometimes, it's tough to tell who the real McCormick is. I used to think it was the street-wise, smart mouthed kid. It only took a short time to understand that the fresh mouth comes out when he's scared or feels he needs to protect himself. Then he puts on the mask and the wise-cracks appear."

"We've noticed those," Matt observed.

Nancy was quick to add, "But the longer he's around, the more we get to see the real him."

"That's a compliment," the judge observed. "It means he trusts you. McCormick doesn't trust very easily. He's had no reason to."

"He trusts you, Milt," Matt pointed out.

Hardcastle shrugged, then continued, "I'm real proud of the kid. He's put his life back together, he's getting a good education. He's gonna do all right."

"It's too bad some people just can't see that," Nancy replied sadly. At Hardcastle's confusion, Nancy supplied, "Patsy and her prejudices."

When the judge continued to look perplexed, Nancy asked, "Didn't Mark tell you about Patsy not wanting him at the party last night?" She filled the judge in on the magazine incident, Patsy's phone call, and Mark's response to it all.

Hardcastle looked slightly disconcerted, "No, he didn't tell me. He gave me the impression that he was going with you."

"Yeah, he didn't tell Julie, either," Matt supplied. "She figured it out a few hours beforehand when she realized he wasn't going with _you_. She ended up only staying at the party for a short time and then she went and kept Mark company for the rest of the night."

"Why didn't he tell me?" the judge asked annoyed, almost to himself.

"Don't take it personally, Milt," Nancy consoled. "He was very upset when we decided to stand up to Patsy for him. I don't think he wanted you to know that he was the reason for our family disagreement. Some hurts take a very long time to heal," Nancy's voice softened as she spoke, "if they ever do."

"Yeah," Hardcastle grumbled and wished he could ease the pain of McCormick's past.

00000

"Steve, Patsy, Kyle, come on in," welcomed Nancy, as her brother and his family walked in the door. "Where's Carol? Off with her new boyfriend?"

Mark tried to hang back in the doorway. But Julie pushed him along into the room, so he figured he might as well enjoy himself.

"Let me grab your coat, Aunt Patsy," Mark offered, as he came up behind her. "This is real fur, isn't it?" he appeared excited. "You could get big money for this, you know."

Patsy looked apprehensive and held onto her coat a bit tighter.

"I'm just gonna hang it in the closet," Mark feigned innocence, but then raised his eyebrows a few times. "I'll take your purse, too," he offered, then added quickly, "to put away, of course."

"McCormick," Hardcastle warned between gritted teeth, then chuckled, "He's only joking, Patsy. It's good to see you, again." He took her arm and led her into the living room.

Patsy smiled at the judge as they sat down, then looked at her husband and muttered, "I don't know what Julie sees in him."

Overhearing this, Mark sat in the chair next to Patsy, pulled Julie into his arms and claimed, "I just _snuck _into her life and _stole _her heart away."

Julie made an attempt not to laugh, as she poked Mark in the ribs and ordered, "Behave!"

Mark was relieved when Kyle started asking questions about his racing days. The judge engaged Patsy, Steve and Matt in a conversation about some new local ordinance. And Julie moved off of the chair to help her mother and sisters get the desserts ready to serve.

Mark was one of the first up and helping himself.

"Well, I'm glad someone's not shy about starting on dessert," Nancy observed, as she put several scoops of ice cream on his extra big piece of pie.

"I'm _guilty_ of that. You can't be shy with pie," Mark rhymed with his mouth already full.

"I've never known McCormick to be shy with food. Except that one time," the judge amended, "when our plane crashed up in Oregon. You weren't too fond of that fish I caught the first night."

"It was staring at me, Judge," Mark challenged. "How can you eat something that's staring at you?"

"You learned to like it after a few weeks out there," Hardcastle claimed.

"After a few weeks, I would have eaten my shoe," Mark concluded, with only slight sarcasm.

Laurie was intrigued and piped up, "You guys were in a plane crash? In Oregon? What happened?"

As the judge launched into his story about his friend, Buzz, and his last flight, Mark finished his pie and started on a brownie.

As the evening wore on, Hardcastle kept a closer eye on Mark. To an outsider, it would seem as if nothing was wrong. But the judge knew McCormick. And he could see him retreating behind his wall. His eyes were wary and his mouth and jaw grew tighter as the wisecracks and fresh mouth were pushed up a notch. It shouldn't be that way, since everyone accepted him without question. Everyone that is, except Patsy. She did her best to stay as far away from him as possible, but she watched him like a hawk. To make sure he didn't try running off with the silver, no doubt.

Nancy joined the judge in the kitchen as he was rinsing out a glass. She leaned against the counter, next to him and followed his stare.

"I'm not sure I care for the Mark that's coming out tonight," Nancy sighed. "If the Mark we know and love retreats any further, we'll have to send in a rescue party to get him back."

"When he first came to live with me, that's the way he was all the time."

"And you still learned to love him," Nancy smiled, then said, "I think Patsy's almost ready to leave. She must be getting tired of clutching her purse all night long."

"I hope it's not too late. It's not easy to get McCormick out of a funk, once he's in one. That rescue party might be just what he needs." The judge indicated Julie, who was heading to the kitchen.

Mark watched as Julie walked into the kitchen and got waylaid by her mom and the judge. He knew he'd been acting like a jerk. _I suppose I should be giving Julie a reason for the impending breakup, _he reasoned away his behavior. _At least Patsy will be thrilled._

He looked back at Julie in the kitchen, still talking to her mom and the judge. She turned around with a mischievous grin and indicated to Mark that she needed his help. He grabbed one of the trash bags in the kitchen and headed out back following Julie. After throwing the bags in the trash can in the garage, he expected to go back to the house. But Julie grabbed his hand and guided him to her favorite spot on the bench swing.

"Isn't it a little chilly to be sitting out here, tonight?" Mark inquired, curiously.

"You'll keep me warm, right?" Julie snuggled closer into Mark's arms.

"Always," Mark agreed. "But why do I get the feeling that something else is going on here?"

The mischievous smile returned. "Sorry, but I'm under direct orders to keep you out here, and do whatever I can, until you return to normal."

Mark laughed, "Whose version of normal?"

"Until you're back to being yourself," Julie amended.

"Who was I?" Mark teased, again.

"Stop being difficult, and let me get on with my assignment," Julie scolded. She lifted her arms and slid them through his incredible curls, then applied slight pressure to bring his face closer to hers. Mark wrapped his arms around her as well, and lifted her into his lap.

"It'll help me feel like myself much sooner," he explained. "Not to mention, help keep me warm."

His lips descended on hers and his hands moved over her back. Then his hands roamed lower, caressing her velvet skirt and what was hidden under it.

Julie started to chuckle, "I thought this was my assignment. You seem to be getting into this quite a bit."

"I couldn't let you take on this mission all on your own, now, could I?" Mark insisted as he nuzzled her neck.

"Mmm, no," Julie agreed. Although she had a feeling that Mark was more himself now; she wasn't about to tell anyone. Yet.

00000

"Milt," Nancy exclaimed, "what a nice surprise. We weren't expecting you to show up with Mark. But you have perfect timing. I was just reheating some of the leftovers we had from yesterday. They'll be ready in a few minutes. Have a seat."

"That would be nice, Nancy," Hardcastle replied. "But I really came along because McCormick and I need to talk to you and Matt. The whole family actually."

"Sounds serious," Matt claimed, as they all settled on the sofas and chairs in the living room.

"And like something I won't enjoy," Julie added, as she moved in close to Mark with a questioning look.

Mark's expression was regretful as he told her, "I didn't say anything earlier because I didn't want to ruin your Christmas. But you know how the judge here's always playing Lone Ranger. Well, there's a bad guy that needs rounding up, so Tonto needs to saddle up and ride. Unfortunately, during winter break from school."

Nancy and Julie both looked alarmed, but Nancy was first to speak, "I know you've told us stories about some of the adventures you two have had, but I thought you'd slowed that down, now that you're in law school?"

"Well," the judge began, "this one is particularly nasty and really needs to be taken off the streets."

"Who is it?" Matt asked.

"His name is Joseph Malone and he's…"

"Joe Malone?" Matt interrupted, now equally alarmed, "The guy they've been trying to put away for years, for every crime imaginable?"

"I guess you've heard of him?" Milt responded.

"Yeah," Matt said, and he and the judge started discussing Malone's history.

After a while, Nancy broke in with a question. "So, how do you plan on getting him this time, if no one's ever been able to catch him before?"

"That's where I come in," Mark scoffed, sarcastically. "I get to be a dirt bag for a few weeks."

"McCormick's going to use his considerable charm and vast talents to get Malone to hire him," the judge informed them "From there, he can pull the plug on Malone's operation."

Matt was still curious. "So how is Mark going to get this guy, when no one else could?"

"Because McCormick's actually going to testify," Hardcastle said. "None of these other witnesses ever got around to testifying."

"Why is that?" Nancy asked, cautiously.

"Malone is very _persuasive. _ Which brings us to why we're here. Malone will either convince the witness not to testify or threaten a loved one. Since McCormick has no close relatives around, that leaves _you_." Hardcastle looked straight at Julie.

Julie was startled. She had been sitting quietly soaking in all the information that was being passed back and forth. But now the attention was on her. Her voice rose an octave, "What do I need to do?"

Mark took her hands in his and reassured her. "You don't have to do anything. What the judge is trying to say, is that if Malone finds out how I feel about you, then you could be in danger. He'd try to use you, to get me not to testify. The bottom line is we can't see each other for a while. Not until after the trial."

"How long will that be?" Julie was horrified.

"Way too long as far as I'm concerned," Mark glared at the judge. "Believe me, Angel, it wasn't my first choice of things to do over break."

"Then why do it?" Julie shouted, ignoring everyone but Mark. "If you don't have to…"

"I _need_ to do this," Mark stated softly, but firmly. "This guy is scum. Every day he's on the streets is one day too long. One of the kids I coach on Saturday mornings, works for him. He doesn't even know what he's doing is illegal. He just needs the money."

"And if he kills you, what good will that do?" Julie cried.

"He'll be fine," the judge jumped in. "We'll be on him every step of the way. Complete police protection from when we bag Malone, until after he testifies."

Julie stared at Hardcastle intently. "And you guarantee that Mark won't get hurt in all this."

"Frank Harper's working on this with us," Hardcastle reassured, "so McCormick will have the whole department looking out for him."

"You promise Mark won't get hurt?" Julie pinned the judge down with a glare.

"I promise," the judge vowed.

Julie muttered, "Why doesn't that make me feel better?"

00000

"So what happened to the last guy who was supposed to testify?" Debbie wanted to know. She had been pumping the judge with questions. As a senior in high school, she had chosen an "Intro to Law" class as an elective. They followed current cases that were in trial at the time. She figured she might get some extra credit for knowing about Malone, when the time came.

"He moved to another part of the country," Hardcastle disclosed.

Mark started to get nervous when he saw how excited Debbie was. "Debbie," he said sternly, knowing how she could get. "You can't tell _anyone_ where you got this information. And you can't tell _anyone_ about Julie and me. Do you get it? This isn't some game. This is your sister's life we're talking about. You may think it won't matter if you tell just one friend, but you never know who _they_ may tell, or who may overhear you." When she sobered up, he sighed, "If anything ever happened to Julie, or any of you, because of this, I could never forgive myself."

"Now, you should be fine," the judge told Matt and Nancy, "but if you see or hear anything even slightly suspicious, call Frank Harper. You met him on Labor Day. Don't give it a second thought." Milt gave them Frank's card and showed them the private numbers he had written on the back, so they could reach Frank any time of day.

"Come on, McCormick," the judge called out. "Time to head out, I think. You've got a big day ahead of you."

"Great," Mark grumbled, sarcastically. "Can you give me ten minutes to say a proper goodbye to Julie, without an audience. I'll meet you by the truck."

The judge nodded and Mark took Julie's hand and led her out to the back yard. He sat with her on the bench swing and pulled her into his arms. "You haven't said very much tonight."

"What do you want me to say?" Julie's voice was thick with emotion. "Apparently I _have_ no say in this matter. You'll do it whether I want you to or not."

"I'm sorry, Angel," Mark touched the side of Julie's face, " but the judge has done so much for me. I owe him more than I can ever repay. I guess this is just one small way of giving back a little of what he's given me."

"And if you die doing this?" Julie's voice was tortured. "The judge didn't exactly say it, but I've read about this Malone, too. I know that several witnesses have disappeared or had fatal accidents, right before the trial."

"Yeah, but I'm his favorite ex-con," Mark joked, "he won't let anything happen to me. Besides, think how much tuition he'd be out, if something went wrong. The judge may be loaded, but he still likes to get his money's worth."

"It's not funny!" Julie choked out. "I don't like it, but I guess I have no choice. Promise me that you'll be careful. That you won't take any unnecessary risks. Please, promise me."

"Okay," Mark vowed, "I promise. Believe me, I don't want anything to happen to me, either. I won't be able to call you or see you, so if you need anything, you can call Frank. He can get a message to me or to Hardcastle." Mark leaned down and gently kissed her lips. But the pressure intensified the more he realized that this could be the last kiss he got from her in a long time. Julie, sensing and sharing his distress, wrapped her arms tighter around him.

After a few minutes, Mark gently removed her arms and looked sorrowfully into her eyes, "I've got to go, Angel. I'll miss you and think of you every minute of every day."

Julie tried to respond, but found that she couldn't get any words past the huge lump in her throat. She attempted a smile and nodded.

Mark stood up, leaned down and gave her another small kiss. "Remember, I love you, Angel," and he walked away to where the judge was waiting for him.

Julie watched him go, but couldn't move. She pulled her legs up onto the bench and wrapped her arms around them, saying a quick prayer for God to keep him safe.

00000

Mark looked out the peephole into the hallway and knew it was show time. He had been living in this dump for the past four days and hadn't made contact with Strickland, yet. Oh, he had seen him and allowed himself to be seen, but he hadn't actually talked to the guy. Frank had said this guy was a bit skittish due to the heat on his boss lately, so Mark wanted Strickland to get used to seeing him around before he weaseled his way into a job. He checked again to make sure he had the right tools on him for his little performance, and walked out into the hall.

Strickland was standing in the hall, locking his door when Mark walked a few steps past him, patted his pockets, swore, and turned back to his apartment door. He jiggled the handle to show it was locked and then went to work. He looked around nervously, and then pulled his lock pick out of his belt. He made quick work of opening his apartment door, reached inside to grab his keys and shut the door again. At this point, Strickland was passing and got a good view of what Mark had done. He looked appropriately guilty and murmured, "Forgot my keys."

"Nice little skill you've got there," Strickland commented to Mark. "Where'd you pick that up?"

"Oh, here and there," muttered Mark, vaguely. "But I don't use it for anything illegal, I mean not anymore." Mark finished with the right amount of anxiety. "You're not a cop, are you? Because that's my apartment, I can prove it. I didn't break into anyone else's place."

Strickland gave a sarcastic snort, "No, I'm definitely not a cop."

"Good," Mark sounded relieved, "I don't need any more of them on my back. What I do need is a drink. You wouldn't happen to know a good place where a guy can get a cheap drink, without drawing too much attention, do you?"

"Actually, I do," Strickland supplied. "I'm headed there now. It's a little place right around the corner. Why don't I buy you a beer to welcome you to the neighborhood."

"So I guess you're the Welcome Wagon, huh?" Mark quipped.

"Not exactly," Strickland said, "but you look like you could use a drink." He took in Mark's worn t-shirt, faded jeans, and less than pristine denim jacket. "I'm Manny Strickland." He put out his hand.

Mark took it and replied, "Mark McCormick. And thanks, I'm a little short right now. I'm looking for work, but it seems no one wants to hire you once they realize you've been inside."

Strickland guided Mark down the street as he asked, "You've done time? What for?"

"GTA," Mark informed him and at Strickland's questioning look, smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "It's a gift, what can I say?"

"Where? And how long you been out?" Strickland continued the interview.

"Quentin, and I've been out for a couple of years," Mark revealed, thinking the closer he stuck to the truth the better. "I was working for this rich guy out by the beach, cleaning his pool and doing yard work, until just recently."

"So why'd you leave?" Strickland asked as they entered the bar and he ordered a drink for each of them.

Mark took a long swig of his beer before answering. "Some things went missing and they immediately figured it was me, so they booted my ass out of there. But I didn't take nothing," Mark defended, vehemently, then chuckled, "Well, maybe his daughter's virtue, but I don't think the old buzzard even knew _that_ was missing."

Manny chuckled and asked, "So, what kind of work you looking for?"

Mark grinned, "The kind that pays good money. And I don't want to pull no stinking weeds or see a pair of hedge clippers again in my life."

Manny gave a little smile and said, "This could be your lucky day, McCormick. I might just know of someone who could use talents like yours."

"My pool cleaning talents?" Mark grimaced.

Strickland grinned, "No, the ones I saw you use earlier."

"Oh, those," Mark grinned back. "You've piqued my interest."

"Well, buy yourself another beer," Strickland said as he slapped some cash in front of Mark. "I'll make some inquiries and be in touch."

Mark put out his hand to shake Manny's and said, "Thanks. I look forward to it."

As Mark watched Manny Strickland walk out the door, he realized that this part had been easy. He was sure that from here on out, things would get a bit more difficult.

00000

"So, what have you found out on this McCormick guy?" Joseph Malone asked his employee.

"Well, I followed him around for the last two days and he didn't really go anywhere, except that restaurant, _Jack's,_" Strickland informed his boss_. "_He met some guy who works in the club there, name of Teddy Hollins. I checked with someone I know who spent some time in Quentin a few years back, and he says he remembers McCormick. Hollins was his cellmate. Says McCormick was a real smart-ass, but most people liked him. He somehow managed to get you whatever you needed and ran a little book on the side. This guy didn't have a lot of details about what happened to him once he got out. He thought he stole another car and somehow ended up cleaning gutters on some fancy estate out in Malibu. That pretty much fits with what McCormick told me. I also checked out his apartment while he was gone. Seems he hasn't exactly been idle since leaving his last job. I found several wallets that weren't his, and unless he has a watch fetish, I'd say he's been lifting things that didn't belong to him."

"Sounds like Mr. McCormick could be useful to us. What do you think?" Malone asked.

"Oh, I think he could be very useful to us," Strickland continued. "Even though he said boosting cars was his talent, I'm pretty sure he has a few others, too. Safely hidden in his apartment was a rather interesting bag of tools. He had lock picks, ropes, harness, safe cracking tools as well as various other items one might need for a little midnight shopping."

"We could start him off with a little light car theft. If that works out, I may have bigger and better things for him to do." Malone looked pleased. "Make arrangements for me to meet with Mr. McCormick, please."

00000

Mark was getting restless. It had been almost two days since he had made first contact with Strickland. He knew Strickland had been following him. The guy wasn't very good at tailing anyone unobtrusively. Or maybe Mark was just overly aware that someone was bound to do it. Mark hadn't done much during that time except go and visit Teddy. He knew there was no way he could contact Hardcastle in any regular way without Strickland knowing it. So Mark had decided that Teddy was the perfect way to communicate with him. Mark could visit his old cellmate, without drawing any unwanted attention, and then Teddy could give the judge any info that was relevant.

Mark looked around the shabby, one room dump he was temporarily calling home. He knew someone had been inside here. He figured Strickland would do as much to check him out. He hadn't brought much with him. A small, portable radio, his rattiest t-shirts, sweatshirts and jeans, and of course his black bag of tricks. Frank had supplied him with a few old wallets and watches from various owners, just to look the part.

He wished he could have brought a picture of Julie, just to look at her sweet face during the empty hours he had spent the last week. But he knew it was too dangerous. He had to content himself with her memory. He lay back on the moth eaten, lumpy mattress and pictured her face the last time he had seen her. Her beautiful, green eyes, swimming with unshed tears, and her mouth trying so valiantly to smile. She had made objections, but not nearly as strong as he knew she could have. She was one of the few people who knew just how much he owed the judge, and how obligated he felt.

Hardcastle was his best friend and mentor. He might give him a hard time now and then, but the judge knew he could count on him when it really mattered. He sure wouldn't mind having the judge here right now. Even as grumpy as he sometimes got, it was better than the emptiness he had been living with. Though the judge didn't voice it much, Mark knew that Hardcastle was proud of the direction Mark's life had taken. The judge had given him unconditional support as well as the means to achieve his goals. He'd always be thankful for that.

He was shaken out of his musings by a light rap on the door. As no one else knew he was here, it had to be Strickland. Or else girl scouts selling cookies, but he didn't imagine there were too many girl scouts who ventured into this neighborhood. He took his time heading to the door so he didn't appear too eager. He looked through the hole and confirmed that it was Strickland. He took a deep breath as he opened the curtain for Act II.

"Hey, Manny," Mark greeted, "what's up?"

"That job possibility I mentioned," Manny started, "you've got an interview."

"When," Mark questioned, "with who?"

"His name is Mr. Malone," Manny informed him, "and the interview is now. Follow me."

"Now!" Mark squeaked. "But, I'm not really dressed for an interview." He looked down at his snug, dark blue t-shirt and well worn Levi's.

"Mr. Malone don't really care what you're wearing," Manny stated, "just your talents. Come on."

"Okay," Mark agreed, and grabbed his faded jean jacket before heading out the door. He figured Manny would bring him to some local place where they could meet, but stopped short when he saw the limousine waiting just outside the broken down building. Strickland motioned for him to get in and followed suit.

"Good evening, Mr. McCormick," Malone greeted him, "Have a seat."

"Mr. Malone," Mark started nervously, "It's nice to meet you."

As the limo started to pull away, Malone began again. "My associate Manny here tells me that you might have some skills that could prove useful to me and my organization. I thought, perhaps, we could discuss the idea of your putting them to good use for me."

Mark gathered his courage and began, "I appreciate this opportunity, Mr. Malone, but I'm wondering what you can offer me. Manny here works for you and he lives in a dump. I already live in a dump. I was kind of looking to move up in the world, you know."

Malone quietly chuckled and advised Manny, "Enlighten Mr. McCormick as to the details of your living arrangements."

Manny snickered, "I don't actually _live_ in that hellhole. It's just a front for doing business. It's a great place to stash things I don't want lying around, and no one asks any questions about my irregular hours. Believe me, my compensation is more than adequate. I can guarantee you won't find the money lacking. If you're interested."

Mark quickly jumped in, "Yeah, I'm interested. But I gotta tell you, Mr. Malone, I don't exactly have a glowing reference from my former employer."

"I'm not interested in those skills anyway, Mr. McCormick," Malone declared. "Right now I'm more interested in the ones that landed you in San Quentin. Although I'm hoping you might be a bit more cautious this time."

Mark's eyes lit up. "Those skills are as sharp as ever. I only got caught that one time because my stinking girlfriend turned me in. Needless to say, I've rid myself of useless attachments like that."

Malone looked satisfied and made his offer. "I've got some merchandise arriving in about a week. I'll need some help procuring transportation to get it distributed. Do you think you could find me a few inconspicuous vehicles in which to do this?"

Mark grinned, "That would be my pleasure, Mr. Malone. Not a problem at all. Just tell me how many, when you need them, and where you want them delivered."

"Manny has all the information you'll need," Malone explained. "I'll see you when you deliver the last one. You'll be well compensated for your time."

Mark glanced quickly at Manny and said, "Thank you, Mr. Malone"

Malone looked at Mark again and suggested, "Why don't you take Manny with you while you're shopping. Maybe you could teach him the finer points of acquisition."

The car came to a stop, and as Mark started to get out, he shook Malone's hand and said, "Sure, I won't let you down."

"See that you don't," Malone warned in a menacing tone.

00000

"So, Teddy," Mark asked a few days later, "you got all that?"

Teddy Hollins just smiled and reassured his old cellmate and friend, "No problems, Skid. I tell Hardcase that you need one car every night, for these five nights. They need to be average looking, and to make sure they're locked. But without high tech alarm systems or tracking devices installed. Got it."

"Ted, make sure you tell him they've got to be locked," Mark stressed. "Strickland's coming along for a little lesson in Car Theft 101. I don't think he'll buy it, if I just happen upon an unlocked car in downtown LA."

"I got it, Skid. You can trust ol' Teddy. But what happens if you can't get in or start one of these puppies up?" Teddy wondered.

Mark gave Teddy an incredulous look. "I know it's been a while since I boosted a car, but when you've done as many as I have, it's like riding a bike."

"I'll have the info you need on where and what kind when you come back tomorrow night," Ted assured him.

Mark smiled, mischievously, "Yeah, we wouldn't want to steal the wrong cars now, would we? Thanks, Ted, for letting us use you as a go between. I'd hate to think what Malone would do if he found out what's really going on."

"It's my pleasure, Skid," Teddy gushed, "Anytime I can be of service to law enforcement officials, it makes me happy."

"Thanks, Teddy," Mark laughed at the BS coming out of Teddy's mouth. "Tell Hardcase I hope he's not too lonely or bored without me."

"You watch your back now, Skid. Okay?" Teddy warned.

Mark finished his drink and left the stylish club, knowing that he had no choice but to return to the rat infested slum that brought back too many memories of his childhood.

00000

"McCormick's got a job from Malone," Hardcastle informed Frank as he walked into the lieutenant's office. "Teddy got me the info first thing this morning. Said McCormick stopped by last night."

"That's great," said Frank, as the judge sat down opposite his desk. "What's he got to do?"

"Apparently, Malone is getting delivery some time next week, and he needs McCormick to steal some cars for him," Hardcastle informed him.

Frank appeared confused. "What does he need stolen cars for?"

"I guess Malone's distributors are "buying" one of these cars and they'll have a nice little bonus hidden somewhere inside. It would cut into Malone's profit to use legitimate cars, so he's having McCormick steal him some average vehicles to use. Anyway, McCormick needs us to set up some of these cars around town so he doesn't actually have to steal them. I figured you could help by getting some cars from impound."

"Sure, that's no problem. Just tell me when and where," Frank requested.

"The _when_ is one every night for five nights, and the _where_ is up to us," related the judge. "But McCormick suggested a few locations. I need to get him descriptions of the cars and where they'll be by tonight. He's going to see Teddy then, but doesn't want to get Malone or Strickland too suspicious by seeing him every night. So if you can get that rolling, it'd be great."

Frank picked up the phone and talked to a few people. When he was done, he informed Milt, "All set. They're sending me a list of what's available shortly. So, does McCormick know when the big shipment is coming in? That would be the best time to move in on Malone."

Hardcastle shook his head, "Teddy didn't say, but I think if he knew, he would have let us know. Teddy says McCormick's getting antsy and more than a little bored. He's started to name the cockroaches in his apartment."

Frank chuckled and said, "He's not the only one who's restless. Julie's called twice this week already. She's always so sweet and apologizes for bothering me, but you can tell she's worried about him. Unfortunately, I haven't had much to tell her, except that he's fine and I'll let her know more when I get the info."

"You should try and wrangle an invitation to dinner some night, Frank," Hardcastle suggested. "Julie's mom is one hell of a cook."

"Is that right?" Frank asked. "Then maybe _you_ should stop by. You must be getting lonely without Mark around."

"You're nuts!" Hardcastle denied. "I'm finally enjoying some peace and quiet."

Frank just laughed because they both knew better.

00000

"How about that one?" Strickland suggested to Mark, as they passed a fancy, black sports car.

"Are you crazy?" Mark asked, "That one probably has some high tech, anti-theft device installed. Nobody leaves a car like that, out on the street, without some sort of protection." Mark was beginning to wonder how Manny managed to survive working for someone like Malone. He didn't seem to have an abundance of brain cells. Of course, it didn't seem like he did any of the dirty work, either. Management!

Mark directed Manny down another side street and found what he hoped was the car Frank had set up for him. Mark hadn't wanted to keep going back to see Teddy every night, so he memorized the car descriptions and locations all at once. He hadn't dared write them down, so it was a bit nerve wracking making sure he was stealing the right cars. He got out, looked around at the car and said to Strickland, "Yeah, this one's good. Same as always, I'll meet you back at the warehouse."

"Mr. Malone's going to be there tonight," Manny reminded him, "so no detours to girlie joints or strip bars."

"Right!" McCormick agreed, sarcastically. It took him less than ten seconds to get inside the car, and maybe another five to get it started. He pulled out of the side street into the little traffic there was at this time of night. Man, he couldn't wait to get done with this. Strickland had some nerve telling _him_ not to stop. He had spent the last few days dragging Mark into every seedy dive, trying to waste time, until it was late enough to go looking for cars. He hoped tonight was the night he could get enough evidence to put Malone away for a long time. And it would be one day closer to seeing Julie again.

Mark pulled into the open doorway of the warehouse that he had been delivering the nightly cars to. As he got out, he noticed Malone coming out of the shadows talking to Strickland. Manny seemed upset about something. As Mark got closer he heard, "…don't know what he was thinking leaving that one behind."

Malone turned as he heard Mark approach. "McCormick, Manny was just questioning your choice of cars."

"Yeah," Mark snarled, "He's been questioning my choice all week." He looked at Strickland. "Listen, you want to steal 'em, you get to pick 'em. Until then, it's my choice, got it?" Mark looked at Malone and apologized, "I'm sorry Mr. Malone, but some of the cars that Manny thought would be appropriate were either too high end and easily traceable or had alarm systems or tracking devices."

Manny snapped back at Mark, "What, an alarm system's a problem for a big time car thief like you?"

Mark just smiled calmly and responded, "No, but I figured Mr. Malone wouldn't want any undue attention on him, like a police squad following us here."

Strickland's eyes narrowed as they roamed over Mark. Malone, however, seemed quite pleased.

"I like how you think, McCormick," he commended. "You've done a fine job this week. I may have need of your talents, again."

"Not a problem, Mr. Malone," Mark returned, respectfully. "Whatever you need me to do."

"Good," Malone said, "because I've run into a bit of a snag in one of my business ventures. This shipment I was expecting took a sudden U-turn. The bumbling fool that was hired to make the delivery," he looked straight at Strickland indicating _who_ had hired this fool, "got pulled over for a DUI and was found with a small amount of cocaine in his possession. Luckily, the police have not yet found my merchandise, which was painstakingly hidden in the vehicle."

Malone addressed Strickland in a low voice, "He will need to be taken care of, before he decides to say anything incriminating, do you understand?" He looked back at Mark and continued, "However, I have buyers who are ready to purchase these vehicles that you acquired for me. But I don't have the bonus they were prepared to get along with the cars. So, you see my problem, don't you?"

"Seems to me, you need that car that was impounded." Mark supplied.

Malone smiled again, "Yes, I do. And I'm wondering if your skills would be available for that job?"

"I can do it, but not tonight," Mark stalled. "I'll need some time to get supplies and check on the guard schedule. They usually put dogs out after ten, but I need to check to make sure that's still the case."

Malone's eyes lit up, "You seem to know quite a bit about police impound. You've acquired things from there before?"

A sly grin slowly appeared on Mark's face, but all he would say was, "When Joe Cadillac asks for something, you give it to him."

"Joe Cadillac?" Malone murmured, impressed

Strickland was doing a slow burn over the developing connection between Malone and McCormick. He stepped closer to the pair and suggested, "Why don't I go to give the kid a hand?"

At Mark's hesitation, Malone asked, "Is that a problem, McCormick?"

Mark immediately replied, "No, it's not a problem, Mr. Malone. As long as he stays out of my way." He indicated Strickland, who still didn't look happy. "I ain't going back inside cause management didn't let the labor force do their job right."

"Agreed," Malone conceded, and looked at Manny to make sure he did, also.

"Where do you want the package delivered, Mr. Malone?" Mark asked.

"Here is fine," Malone said. "I need to get the supplies distributed as quickly as possible."

Mark was more than ready to leave, so he finished the conversation quickly, "So, I'll meet you here, tomorrow night around midnight. Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Malone."

"You're welcome," Malone replied as he handed Mark an envelope. "And this is for a job well done this week. There'll be more where that came from, when you've finished the next job."

Mark peeked in the envelope and smiled, "Pleasure doing business with you."

He started walking outside when Strickland caught up with him. "How you getting back to your apartment?"

"I'm not going back to that rat hole just yet. The night's young and I've got some cash to burn," Mark grinned as he placed the envelope in his pocket. "I'm heading to a club where a friend of mine works. Want to come?"

Manny thought about declining, but wanted to find out more about McCormick. This would be a good opportunity. "Sure, I'll drive." They got in Strickland's car and headed toward _Jack's_. He continued pumping for information. "So, McCormick, why so jumpy about having me come along tomorrow?"

McCormick understood that he still needed Manny in his corner until this whole thing was over, so he tried to unruffle his feathers. "Look, Manny, I didn't mean to put you down back there, but I'm used to working alone, you know. I appreciate your getting me this gig, but I'm just a little jumpy about trusting people. There ain't no way I ever want to go back to the joint. It's just self-preservation. So don't take it personal. You want to help tomorrow, that's great, but we do things my way. That's all I was trying to get across. We okay with that, man?"

Strickland gave a grudging nod.

As they arrived at _Jack's, _Mark tried to figure out how he would get the info to Teddy. He couldn't very well tell him in front of Strickland. They walked straight back to the bar and Teddy soon came over.

"Hey, Skid," Teddy slapped Mark on the back, "you mooching some drinks again, buddy?"

Mark pulled out his wad of cash and waved it around, "Nope, I'm buying for me and my friend, Manny. We just finished a real sweet job and got another bigger one lined up for tomorrow night. If you weren't working, I'd buy you one, too." Mark introduced Teddy and Manny to each other. While Mark and Manny had a few drinks, Teddy went about his job, stopping by every now and then to reminisce about something that happened in Quentin, or someone they knew from inside. When it got close to closing time, Teddy started giving directions to some of the employees and told his friend it was just about time to go.

Mark stood up and wavered slightly, attempting to make Strickland think he was over his limit. He turned to him and slurred, "I'd better use the little boy's room before we go, or I might not make it. Don't want to have an accident." He stumbled away and into Teddy, who grabbed his shoulders to steady him. He leaned into Teddy and whispered, "Info in the restroom." He looked into Teddy's eyes to make sure he understood him, grabbed the pen from his shirt pocket and staggered the rest of the way.

Once inside, he quickly wrote down all the relevant info on the envelope that he had gotten his payment in. He made note of the plan to eliminate the guy who had landed Malone's shipment in the impound to begin with. Knowing tomorrow night was the perfect time to grab Malone, Mark made sure he got all the information right. He just hoped Hardcastle and Frank would agree. He hated the idea of hanging out with Strickland one minute longer than he had to. He left the info under a towel in a corner and made his way back for what he hoped was his last night in hell.

00000

"So, did you put someone on Malone?" Hardcastle asked Frank, as they sat in the unmarked car. They were parked a short distance from the warehouse and had a good view of anyone who might approach.

"I _did_," grumbled Frank, "unfortunately, he managed to give them the slip, so we're not sure exactly where he is right now. Mark's information should help, since we know he should be showing up here shortly. Who would have thought Teddy would come in handy, huh?"

"I just hope the info he passed on is accurate." Hardcastle admitted. "If we bust in there now and it's not the right time, McCormick's cover will be blown. We won't have a chance in hell of getting Malone on the drug trafficking charge."

"The driver of the car, the one Mark is taking out of impound tonight, is willing to testify," Frank told him, "especially since we told him Malone put a hit on him. But it's impossible to link him with Malone. Strickland hired him and he received all his info by phone, so he can't testify that Malone gave him the orders. We'll just have to sit here until we see that Malone has gone in. We know he's not in there, yet."

"McCormick won't let us down," the judge declared. "He wants out of there pretty quickly. But he'll do the job for us. He's never let me down before."

"I know he hasn't," admitted Frank. "But, Milt, you do realize that this is probably the last time. I don't imagine Mark will be doing this kind of thing for you once he graduates from law school."

"I know that," snapped Hardcastle.

"How do you feel about that?" Frank asked. "About Mark getting on with his life?"

"I'm happy for the kid," Milt insisted. "McCormick's worked hard to put his past behind him. He deserves to have a great life and career."

Frank pushed a bit harder, wondering what Milt was really thinking about the whole situation. "You're not even a little bit upset about breaking up the team?"

"No," Hardcastle denied. "Well, not really. It's just that I've kind of gotten used to having him under foot. I assume he'll be wanting to get a place of his own. And I think he wants Julie around for the long haul." Hardcastle trailed off.

"True," Frank acknowledged. "Although, it's not like he's gonna leave you behind and never see you again."

"No, of course not," Hardcastle agreed. But he couldn't stop the little shred of fear that entered his mind at the thought.

00000

"Now just stay here and open the gate when I drive the car out," Mark warned Manny as he clipped the lock into the impound yard. "Keep the gate closed until you see me coming, then open it fast. The dogs may be asleep, now," Mark indicated the two Dobermans, who had chomped down the hamburger with the crushed sleeping pills in it, "but who knows what else could be in there."

"I'll do my part of the job," Manny sneered. "You just make sure you do yours."

"Give me a few minutes," Mark said. "And once I'm past you, I'd get out of here, pronto!"

With a "see you at the warehouse," Mark ducked between the gates and headed towards the appropriate car.

In no time, Mark was in the car and starting it up. He zoomed past Strickland and headed down the street. He wished the view of Manny in the rearview mirror would be the last one he ever had to see. Unfortunately, he knew he still had to face him and Malone again. One more time today and then again in court. Mark's thoughts were racing. If this didn't work, if Hardcase and Frank were not there at the right time, things could get ugly. _No, positive thoughts only. We'll get this finished tonight._

Mark pulled the car up to the warehouse door, waiting for one of Malone's flunkies to open it for him.

00000

_Okay, party time, _Mark thought as he got out of the car and waited for Strickland to catch up to him. It took only a few minutes for Manny to park down the street and enter from the back. Mark glanced around the warehouse. There were now six cars inside, along with various boxes and crates. He wasn't sure if these had actual stolen merchandise in them, or if they were just for show. He really didn't care, just as long as Malone went down tonight. Strickland was talking with a few other guys when Mark walked over.

"Nice job, McCormick," Strickland praised. "Mr. Malone will be here shortly. I just called him to let him know everything went according to plan. He's just taking his time in case any cops had the notion to follow us here."

Mark hoped Frank and the judge had told all the cops to stay back until it was time to go in. He didn't need this bust going south because some rookie was too anxious. But he knew the judge and trusted him to come in at the right time. _After_ Malone was here.

"Well, **I** got away clean," Mark boasted. "I don't know about you."

Strickland was about to say something when Joe Malone entered the building.

He walked right over to the car Mark had just boosted, and smiled widely. "Excellent, excellent! Mr. McCormick, I do think you could have a promising career with us."

He motioned for one of the men to hand him a small cutting tool. He opened the back door and leaned inside, cutting open the leather on the back seat. He reached in and pulled out a small bag of white powder. With a satisfied smile, he threw the bag at McCormick.

"Perfect! Now we get to work." Malone motioned for the other two men to start pulling the drugs out of the cushions. "I want it counted before we start loading the other vehicles."

When the bags were all accounted for, Malone again ordered, "Make sure these get divided evenly into all five cars."

Mark handed the bag he was still holding to Manny and addressed Malone, "Do you want some help loading these cars, or is my part here done?"

"No, no, McCormick, your part was done perfectly," Malone told him. "These men will finish the job. My thanks for providing us with your expertise. Just let me finish this up and I'll get you your payment."

Mark nodded, "Thank you Mr. Malone. Anytime." _Yeah, anytime now, Hardcase! Let's get this over with. It's the perfect time to come on in and grab this guy._ Mark just hoped the judge was thinking the same thing.

00000

"Okay, there's Malone," Frank announced, even though he knew Milt had seen him. This was what they had been waiting for. Mark had driven by and into the warehouse about ten minutes before and they knew Malone couldn't be far behind.

"Let's give him a few minutes to get the dope out of the car," Milt suggested. "We want him plenty dirty with no way out this time."

When a few minutes had dragged by, Frank got on the radio and ordered, "Okay, let's move in. Make sure you cover that back entrance. We don't want anyone getting out of there. And remember, McCormick's one of the good guys."

Hardcastle had already gotten out of the car and made his way to the door, pistol drawn. Frank was only a step behind. Frank moved to the door, gave it a good kick, and shouted, "Police! Drop your weapons."

00000

Mark was starting to sweat. _Where the hell are the cops? _Malone and his men were almost done transferring the drugs when Mark heard the yell, "Police! Drop your weapons."

Malone immediately jumped behind one of the cars, pulled out his gun and started shooting in the direction of the command. Mark followed suit, so he wouldn't pick up any stray bullets, and saw more cops pouring in some of the side doors. Malone seemed pinned down, with no way out.

Then, Mark noticed that Strickland was disappearing down the back hallway. He figured Frank had that back exit covered, but he wasn't taking any chances. He took off after Strickland, into the dimly lit corridor, but had barely rounded the corner when he was thrown sideways into the wall. It took a moment for Mark to clear his vision, but when he did, he found he was looking up into the barrel of a very big gun. And Manny Strickland was standing at the end of it, looking very irritated.

"You did this, didn't you?" he accused Mark with a menacing growl. He moved a step closer and his finger started to squeeze the trigger.

"No, wait!" Mark begged, and flinched as he heard the shot go off. Instead of the expected pain, he saw Manny grab his hand as his gun went flying.

Mark looked up in surprise and saw Hardcastle standing there with his own weapon drawn. He slumped back against the wall with relief.

"You cut these things too damn close, you know that Kemo Sabe?" Mark gasped when he finally found his voice again.

"It was perfect timing and you know it, McCormick." The judge reached down and assisted Mark back to his feet, as the other officers led Manny away. They walked back to the larger section of the warehouse, just as the police were handcuffing Malone and his helpers.

Frank came rushing over, concerned. "You okay, Mark? I heard a shot back there."

Mark nodded, "Yeah, the Lone Ranger arrived just in time to save Tonto's butt, again."

Hearing the exchange, Malone pulled against his captor and sneered at McCormick, "You! You could have had a great career here with me."

"Sorry, Mr. Malone," Mark apologized, sarcastically. "They made me a better offer."

The officers escorted Malone away, threatening, "You'll regret this."

The judge clapped Mark on the back and guided him out the door to Frank's waiting car. Mark collapsed into the back seat with a huge sigh.

"Happy to see us, McCormick?" Hardcastle observed, smiling.

Mark gave a small laugh, "Yeah, you don't know how happy."

"Well, it's over," stated the judge. "You did a great job helping us nail Malone, and life can get back to normal."

"Not quite," Mark protested. "I think you forgot the part where I curl up in a hole, until this whole things comes to trial. And I have no contact with my girlfriend until then, either."

"Hey, you lived without her for thirty something years," Hardcastle observed, "I think you can manage for a month or so."

A derisive snort was the only answer that came back.

00000

"The DA says the case looks good and airtight, as long as Mark testifies," Frank confirmed. "He didn't even mind being called in at 3 am to get things rolling."

"The DA's office wants Malone as much as we do," the judge said. "Now we just have to wait for the trial."

"And make sure Mark makes it to that trial," Frank finished.

Hardcastle nodded, "He'll make it. I'll see to that."

Frank looked around, "Where is he, by the way?"

"He's out cold, on a couch, down the hall," snickered the judge. "These kids have no stamina these days."

"Well, the DA did grill him pretty rigorously for over two hours, you know," Frank defended him. "And he said he hadn't slept well in that grungy apartment. Apparently the rats and cockroaches had this thing for partying every night."

"McCormick just likes to exaggerate," Hardcastle complained. "Let's go get him. I guess it's time to bring him home. And I was just starting to get used to the peace and quiet without him there."

"You're so full of crap," Frank snorted as they walked down the hall. They found Mark, passed out on a couch that was way too short for his long limbs. "You missed him, Milt, and you know it."

The judge shook Mark's shoulder and roared, "Come on, McCormick, let's go home."

Mark jumped at the sound of Hardcastle's voice and nearly fell off the couch. He blinked a few times and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get his bearings.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"It's about 6:30," Frank said. "_I'm_ headed back home to get some shut eye. I suggest you two do the same thing. You look exhausted, Mark, like you haven't slept in a week."

"Try _several _weeks," Mark amended. "Isn't that how long I was in that stinking pigsty?"

"Enough complaints, kiddo," Hardcastle snapped, "let's go home."

"Wait!" Mark requested. "I want to call Julie. You heard Malone in the warehouse. He's definitely not happy with me. There's no way I can go near her until after the trial. But I need to let her know that I'm okay, and that Malone's behind bars."

"Sure, why don't you use the phone in my office," Frank suggested.

"Thanks, Frank," Mark threw over his shoulder, as he headed into Frank's office and closed the door. He grabbed the phone and dialed the number that he'd been dying to call for the past two weeks. On the third ring, Nancy picked up.

"Hi, Mom," Mark smiled into the phone. "Hope I didn't wake you."

"Mark!" Nancy sobbed with relief. "Are you okay? We've been so worried about you."

"I'm fine," Mark admitted, "Just tired. But I wanted to let you know that we got Malone early this morning. The DA has already grilled me incessantly, but he's positive the case will hold up. The evidence, along with my testimony, is solid."

"Oh, that's a relief," Nancy sighed. "When will we be able to see you again?"

"Not for a while, unfortunately," Mark complained. "The DA thinks we can get a trial date pretty quick, with Malone's history. But it still may be close to a month."

"We all miss you, especially Julie," Nancy said. "She's been moping around here like she lost her best friend. Which, I guess she has."

"Not lost," Mark corrected, "just misplaced, temporarily. Is she awake yet? I really wanted to talk to her. I'm still at the police station in Frank's office. I didn't want to take the chance of calling from home. Malone's not too pleased with me at the moment."

"She's still asleep," Nancy said, "but I know she'd string me up if I didn't wake her. Mark, please be careful. We don't want anything happening to you."

"Thanks, I will," Mark promised. As he heard Nancy walking up the stairs and gently calling Julie's name, he thought how strange it was to have all these people worry about him. Yeah, okay, the judge had been worrying about him for years. But that was always in a gruff, I'm-responsible-for-you-so-don't-screw-up sort of way. This obvious concern was unfamiliar. _I think I could get used to it, though._

Julie's sleep filled voice came on the phone, and the ache of missing her grew bigger.

"Hey, Angel," Mark greeted her and got a gasp of surprise in return.

"Mark!" Julie exclaimed. "Is everything all right? God, I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you, too, sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. I'm fine. I just wanted to let you know that we got Malone." Mark filled her in on the events of the night and what the DA had said. He left out the part where Strickland almost shot him and the threats from Malone.

"Listen," Mark continued, "I know it's been hard on you, but we have to keep this charade up until after the trial. I promise, I'll make it up to you when this is all through."

"I know," Julie consented. "I just wish I could see you, be with you for a while."

"I almost thought about letting myself get shot, just so I could see you in the Emergency Room," Mark quipped.

Julie's roar of horror made Mark smile. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"Please, Mark, please be careful," Julie pleaded with a slight hitch in her voice.

"I will, Angel," Mark said. "And I'll try and call you from Frank's office if I get the chance. I'll probably see you occasionally, once school starts up in a week. But we'll still need to pretend and pretty much ignore each other while on campus."

"Okay," Julie agreed. "But I'm not happy about this."

"I know. Listen, Hardcastle's not happy right now, either," he added. "He's glaring at me through Frank's office window. We're both beat. We've been up all night making sure everything goes smoothly in Malone's case. I've really got to go. I love you, Angel. Miss me, okay?"

Julie's soft voice reached his ears, "That's a given."

00000

"Yeah, that's great, thanks." Frank put the phone down and smiled at Milt and Mark, blatantly listening in from their seats in the den.

"Well?" Hardcastle prompted.

"The trial date's set for February tenth. And the DA's making sure that Mark is the first witness on the stand. Once he testifies, there'd be no point in Malone trying to hurt him."

"Three weeks," groaned McCormick, from his semi-reclined position on the couch.

"Cut out the theatrics, hotshot," Hardcastle criticized. "It's not that long."

"Juuudge!" Mark whined. "It's already _been _three weeks. I spent the first two and a half lounging around a rat-infested dump, and the last few days cleaning the house. You won't even let me go outside to do any of the yard work."

"I thought you hated yard work, kiddo," Hardcastle accused him. "You were always complaining about it, before you started law school."

"Yeah, I did," confessed Mark. "But it sure beats sitting around inside, doing nothing. I haven't even had any homework to do, since classes don't start until next week. Are you even gonna let me go?"

"Of course I am," Hardcastle said. "You can't very well miss the first two weeks of class, in your last semester now, can you? But it does bring up a point. Frank," he addressed his friend, "did you find a bodyguard for McCormick?"

"A bodyguard?" Mark objected. "I don't need a freaking bodyguard following me around and hovering in my face all during class."

"No, Mark," Frank clarified, "we got a young undercover cop who's gonna blend in with the rest of the population. And he won't actually go into any of your classes. He'll just stay in your vicinity and keep his eyes open. I don't imagine that Malone will try anything while you're in the middle of a crowd."

"You hear that, McCormick? So don't go off some place by yourself," Hardcastle warned. "You'd provide Malone with a perfect opportunity to take you out."

"What about you, Hardcase?" Mark challenged. "Do you get a bodyguard?"

"I'm not the one that's testifying, dummy, you are," the judge reminded him.

Mark sat up straight and glared at the judge. "Listen, Judge, I did this whole avoidance thing with Julie to keep her safe. But reality is, that _you're_ my best friend, someone I care very much about. What's to stop Malone from trying to get to me, through _you_?"

Hardcastle made a face and laughed, "You're crazy."

"Judge, look at me," Mark demanded. "If it came down to testifying against Malone, or your life, there'd be no decision to make."

"Don't be stupid, McCormick," the judge argued. "Of course you'd testify. We didn't go through all this, for you to back down now."

Mark was about to come back with a rebuttal, but Frank interrupted, "Milt, Mark's got a point. You two are family, whether you admit it or not. Which is why I've arranged for a team of guards to patrol the estate and escort you around as well."

"You did what!" Milt roared. "Frank…"

"He's right, Judge," Mark said. "If you want me to have a bodyguard, then you need one, too."

"All right, if it will make you both happy," the judge grudgingly consented. "But I'm only doing this to shut you up. I'm sick and tired of hearing you bellyache, McCormick."

Frank glanced at Mark and smiled, but kept quiet. He had won this round without too big of a fight.

"At least something good has happened this week," Mark started, "Benny, down at the garage is going to start training Rafe. Not quite the money he was making with Malone, but at least it's legal."

Hardcastle jumped on that thought. "See, you're making a difference, McCormick. Don't forget that."

"Yeah," Mark acknowledged, yet was still moping as he flopped back on the sofa and muttered, "But, three stinking weeks."

"Mark, I know you haven't seen Julie," consoled Frank. "But you've been able to talk on the phone with her a few times this week. That should help a little."

"I'm sorry, Frank," apologized Mark. "I know you've been great about letting me use your phone to call her this week, but it's just not the same as seeing her. How would you feel if you couldn't see Claudia for six weeks?"

Frank perked up in interest. "Can you arrange that?"

"Fraaank!" Mark was back to whining.

"I'm just kidding, Mark," chuckled Frank. "Yeah, I'd miss her. Are you that serious about this girl?"

"Yeah, I am," Mark said, resolutely. "Although right now, I think I'm _seriously_ gonna get some food. I'm starving." And he got up and walked into the kitchen.

Frank stared at Mark's retreating back and said, "He gave up a lot to do this for us. You know that, Milt."

"Yeah, yeah," Milt grumbled, distractedly. "I'm just worried about him being so out in the open at college."

"There's not much we can do about that. The bodyguard is our best bet," Frank said. "Unless you tell him he can't go,"

Hardcastle just shook his head. "He'd never forgive me for that."

00000

"Finish reading the last two chapters of unit two, and you'll be having a test on Monday," Professor Fitzgerald announced to the class as time ran out. "Have a good weekend. And Mr. McCormick, could I see you for a minute, please?" he added as the class filed out of the room.

Mark walked up to the front of the room, "Yes, sir?" Mark was curious.

"I was just checking on your court date. Will you be here for the test?" Professor Fitzgerald asked.

"Yes, I will." Mark acknowledged. "I testify on Wednesday morning, first thing. I'm hoping I'll be done in time to make it to my afternoon classes."

"You haven't missed one of my classes, yet," he said. "So, don't worry too much if you don't make it. Malone is not someone we want loose on the streets. You do what you have to, to get him behind bars, where he belongs, okay?"

"I will," Mark promised and left the classroom. As usual, the bodyguard Frank had found to 'blend in,' was waiting by the door. Mark couldn't fault the guy, he was young and efficient, but Mark felt like he couldn't go to the john, without having someone watch him. And today he had plans that didn't include this guy.

Mark walked out of the building he was in, and through the campus swiftly. When he was far enough ahead, he slipped into another building and ran quickly down the nearest stairs. He ducked under the stairwell, behind two large trash bins. And there he found his objective.

"You always take me to the nicest places," giggled Julie, who stood under the stairs, waiting.

Mark grinned as he grabbed Julie and moved her closer to the wall. He leaned close and whispered, "Brutus will be here any minute, searching for me, so we need to be quiet." His voice filled with mischief, "Can you think of anything we can do that's quiet?"

Julie's eyes turned playful as her hands moved up Mark's chest and she whispered back, "Oh, I think so." She pulled his head down and made him forget that someone wanted him dead.

00000

"Where the hell were you, McCormick?" roared Hardcastle, as Mark walked into the den.

"What?" Mark defended. "I was at school, you know that."

Frank stood up from his chair and joined the discussion. "Taylor says you were missing for almost fifteen minutes today, after your last class. He was about to call in the whole police force when he finally found you."

"Hey, it's not my fault the guy can't keep up with me," Mark bluffed.

"Listen, hotshot, that guy is there for your protection, whether you like it or not," Hardcastle fumed. "You pull another stunt like that and you could wind up dead. Now, where were you?"

"I was under the stairway," Mark admitted, "with a friend."

Frank couldn't help but chuckle. "Let me guess. This friend is about five foot five with long dark hair and big green eyes."

Mark looked chagrined. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"McCormick…" the judge was working up into a full-blown rage, but Frank interceded.

"Mark, we really appreciate what you've given up to help put Malone behind bars," Frank reiterated. "But, we're in the home stretch and I'm sure he must be getting desperate to find some way to keep you quiet. We can't take any chances. I know you miss Julie, but promise me you won't do that again. It's only for five more days."

Hardcastle was about to add his two cents, when Mark sincerely apologized, "I'm sorry, Frank. I know you've put a lot of time and effort into keeping me safe, and I appreciate it. I won't do anything like that again."

At Mark's candor and promise, Hardcastle simmered down a bit. "That should get you through the next five days, McCormick. I hope it was worth it."

Mark's eyes lit up. "Without a doubt!"

00000

"Mark testifies day after tomorrow," Cheri stated quietly, sitting in the Student Center, in between classes, with Julie. "I don't know how you're holding it together. If someone were trying to kill Doug, and I couldn't even see him, I'd be out of my mind."

"Who says I'm not out of my mind?" Julie responded. "I just have to put every ounce of acting skill I have into everyday life." Julie had attempted to tell Cheri that she and Mark had broken up, but Cheri knew her too well. They had known each other since they were little and they never could hide anything from each other. But Julie trusted Cheri with her life, so she had told her the truth and made her promise that she would tell no one.

"Speak of the devil," murmured Cheri as she looked over Julie's shoulder. Julie casually adjusted her position, so she could see what Cheri was looking at. She already had a good idea. Sure enough, it was Mark, walking into the Student Center. His faithful bodyguard following closer than usual. Julie didn't know if that was due to the little stunt they had pulled last week, or if it was because the court date was getting closer. Julie stuck a book up in front of her face, but continued to stare.

"You know," Cheri's voice jolted Julie out of her reverie, "He is definitely one, gorgeous guy. How did you get so lucky?"

"Yeah, he is," Julie answered dreamily, then continued in a fierce whisper, "Hey, wait a minute, get your eyes back in your head. He's mine and don't you forget it."

"_I_won't forget it, but _she_ might," Cheri accused, gazing at someone next to Mark.

Julie looked up, covertly again, in Mark's direction. She sucked in a breath and her eyes got hard. "Veronica." The word came out in a low growl. "What is _she_ doing with him?

"Staking her claim, it looks like," Cheri sneered. "But she didn't actually come in _with _him, she just zeroed in the minute he walked through the door."

Julie knew she shouldn't be jealous, but this woman made her blood boil. Maybe it was the history with Mark, although Mark claimed it was only one date and he hadn't pursued it further. It was more where the date had ended that made her feel inadequate. As she watched, Mark smiled politely to Veronica but disentangled himself and moved to a nearby table, alone. He sat that way for a few minutes looking at some notes and writing something now and then. He looked around every so often and Julie knew his gaze strayed to her a few times more than it should have. After a few more minutes, Mark got up, grabbed his bag and started across the room, past where Julie and Cheri were sitting.

The need to watch him as he went by was very strong. Julie put all her energy into keeping her eyes on the book in front of her. They strayed, just ever so slightly, as he strolled past. Mostly, because he dropped a crumpled wad of paper near her feet, as he moved by her.

Julie held herself in check, and indicated to Cheri she should do the same, until Mark was long out of the building. Cheri was the first to break. She reached down, grabbed the paper and dropped it in Julie's lap. Julie took a quick glance around the room before opening it. She took a deep breath as she read the simple message. She held it out for Cheri to see. _I Love You, Angel!_

"So, have you told him, yet?" Cheri questioned.

"Told him what?" Julie replied, innocently.

"How you feel about him," pestered Cheri, as she waved the paper in front of Julie's face. "He loves you. You love him."

"I think I'm just beginning to realize it, now," Julie admitted, sadly. "Not being able to see him or talk to him, whenever I wanted, and knowing he was in danger, has made me understand my feelings a bit more."

"So, you're gonna tell him?" Cheri pressed.

Julie nodded. "Yes, as soon as this whole thing is over. I'm still really worried about him, though. From what I've read, this Malone doesn't usually give up quite so easily."

00000

_Piece of cake! _He thought, as he lay the second guard on the ground behind a bush. The first one lay a few yards away, also unconscious. He wasn't getting paid to kill these guys. And he didn't do freebies. As he crept up to the backside of the gatehouse, he thought how predictable some people were. He had been watching these guards for the past week and they never deviated from their routine. Always, back and forth in the same pattern. He knew there were other guards elsewhere on the estate, but they also never deviated, so he shouldn't run into them if he did his job right.

He had been trailing this McCormick for almost a month, looking for some weak spot. Mr. Malone was getting anxious. There had been no one close enough to McCormick to use as leverage, except this Judge Hardcastle. But grabbing Hardcastle would prove very difficult with the round-the-clock guards and alarm system in the house. McCormick, in the gatehouse, was another story. That system was old and easy enough to disconnect. He moved the trellis he had gotten from the side of the house, over near the window and climbed up. As he opened the window, he could see McCormick, sleeping. He reached into his jacket, pulled out his gun and grinned. He should be able to get McCormick, without even going all the way in.

00000

Mark's eyes fluttered open, then closed again. Something had awakened him, but he wasn't sure what. As he snuggled back into the covers, he heard it again: a noise from the direction of the window. He attempted to get his eyes open and focused. When his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he realized there was a shadow in the window. He couldn't quite make it out. Then the moon came out from behind a cloud and he saw the reflection of an arm, holding a gun.

In an instant, Mark rolled to the side and onto the floor, taking half the sheets with him. But, too late, as he struggled to free himself from the sheets that had tangled around his lower half, a searing pain slashed into his left arm. He heard more noise as the intruder dragged himself the rest of the way through the opening.

Mark managed to free himself as the gunman found his footing. He grabbed a shoe with his uninjured arm and threw it in that direction. Clutching his injured arm close to him, he ran for the stairs. As he reached the top and was about to run down, he turned slightly to see how close the shooter was.

He registered the gun pointed straight at him, but before he could make a move, he felt intense heat slice across his forehead. The force sent Mark spinning into the railing and he tumbled, head over heels, down the stairs. As he came to rest on the landing, his head slammed into the wallboard. _I've got to get away, can't let Hardcastle down, _were his last thoughts as the black curtain descended over him.

Above him, the intruder moved closer to the stairway. He looked down at the still body of Mark McCormick, sprawled on the landing. _Better make sure the job is finished._ He raised the gun and took aim.

00000

Milt Hardcastle had been expecting this for the past month. Still, when the alarm for the gatehouse sounded, his heart skipped a beat. He jumped out of bed, grabbed a two-way radio and his handgun. As he flew past, he glanced at the new security screen he'd just had installed, showing the break in at the upstairs window in the gatehouse.

"Get to the gatehouse!" Hardcastle bellowed into the radio. "Something's going on."

The judge sped down the driveway; thankful he had gone to sleep in sweat pants last night. He hoped he'd get there and find McCormick had just tripped the new wireless sensors on a prowl for food. He kicked open the gatehouse door and flicked on the light. He froze, for only a second, when he saw the dark clad man at the top of the stairs, holding a gun.

"Hey!" the judge yelled, as he pointed his own weapon at the unwelcome guest. "Drop it!"

The gunman fired a haphazard shot at Hardcastle, took one last look down the stairs, then turned and slid back through the window. Hardcastle quickly radioed, "He's coming out the back window. Get him!"

When he looked back on the scene, his heart dropped into his stomach. McCormick was lying awkwardly on the landing with his feet still on the stairs above him. And he was covered in blood. It was running down the side of his face, and covered much of his white T-shirt. His sleeve was saturated and there were large amounts on his side and chest, as well.

"McCormick! McCormick!" the judge's voice cracked as he sprinted up the stairs. His thoughts were whirling a mile a minute.

_Oh, God! No! Don't let him be dead. This is all my fault, I should have listened to Frank. I should have made him stay up at the main house. This was too dangerous, too dangerous. Why did I insist he do this? He didn't want to. I guilted him into it. _

Hardcastle knelt down next to Mark, and gently touched his blood spattered face. His fingers moved to Mark's throat, desperately seeking a pulse. _Thank God!_ The relief washed over him as he felt the throbbing under his hand, but this was quickly overridden with concern for getting McCormick medical attention. As the judge attempted to locate where he had been shot, Mark started to stir.

_God, what kind of party did I go to last night? _Mark thought as he regained consciousness, and the aches all over his body became evident. As he opened his eyes and saw Hardcastle leaning over him, with apparent concern, he remembered.

Attempting to sit up, Mark moaned in pain and Hardcastle berated him, "Keep still, kiddo, I'm not sure how bad you've been hit." Hardcastle moved his hands to Mark's shoulders to keep him still, but the pressure so close to his wound had him roaring in agony.

Hardcastle pulled his hands away quickly, swearing, "Dammit! Where are you hurt, McCormick?"

As soon as the throbbing eased enough for him to get a few words out, Mark moved his right hand near his upper left arm and croaked, "Shot, here." Then his hand moved further up to his head. "Here, it's not too bad, I think." His voice shook with the effort. "Just a graze, but I fell down the stairs, hit my head."

"Take it easy, kid," the judge tried to comfort him. "We're gonna get you some help, real soon, okay."

"Why?" Mark attempted to laugh, but winced with pain instead. "So Malone can try and kill me again."

Before Hardcastle could respond, one of the cops who had been on guard duty, rushed into the gatehouse. "We got him, Judge! A black and white's on the way up the driveway. Is McCormick all right?"

"He needs medical attention, get an ambulance here," ordered Hardcastle, gruffly.

Mark started to protest and the judge was about to silence him, when another thought came to his mind and he shouted at the retreating officer, "Wait! I've got an idea."

00000

Frank Harper pulled his car up next to the cruiser that was parked in front of the gatehouse. He spied several officers moving around the vehicle and got out. The phone call that had gotten him out of bed, at this ungodly hour, had given him very little in the way of details. There had been a possible shooting at Gull's Way and they figured he would want to know. He hoped to God that it was nothing. As he approached the black and white, he overheard one of the uniforms talking to Dispatch, asking for the coroner.

He thought he had misheard, until another officer announced, "You better get this guy out of here," indicating the man sitting in the back of the cruiser, "before Hardcastle realizes he's still here. He'll tear him apart. McCormick meant a lot to him."

Frank didn't wait to ask questions. He moved toward the gatehouse door at a rapid clip. His thoughts were on his two friends. _This wasn't supposed to happen. We were supposed to protect him. We promised him he'd be fine. _Actually, Milt had done much of the promising. How was he taking this? _This is gonna kill him. If Mark's death doesn't send him over the edge, the guilt from not protecting him will. _Frank wasn't sure what he'd find when he entered the gatehouse. After the information he'd heard from the officers outside, he sure didn't expect to see Milt, fussing over a groggy McCormick, who was sitting up on the landing of the stairs.

"Mark!" Frank breathed out of sigh of relief as he moved further into the room. As he got closer to Milt and Mark, he noticed how much blood Mark was covered in. "Mark! Are you okay? Is an ambulance on the way?"

Hardcastle scoffed. "McCormick, here, is fine. The shots barely touched him. He just bleeds a lot."

"Easy for you to say, Judge," Mark shot back. "You're not the one who fell down a flight of stairs because of 'said shots'. And does this look like a scratch to you?" Mark indicated the bullet hole in his arm.

"It was only half a flight of stairs, you baby," Hardcastle chided. "And the bullet went right through, nice and clean."

"I hate to break up the love fest here, boys, but what's with the coroner's wagon? Mark, the guys out there think you're dead. Milt, didn't you tell them?"

"Yeah, they know," Hardcastle answered. "But they're trying to make the guy who did this, think he was successful. So he can report back to his boss. You see, Frank, we want McCormick to make it to the trial to testify, right? So if Malone thinks he's dead, he won't try to kill him again."

Frank's still drowsy mind started to comprehend and he nodded his head. "I think I can help you with that. I noticed a press van down by the road. A few well chosen, vague words and an accompanying visual, should do the trick."

00000

The stage was set. Now it was time for Frank's scene. The other players were ready. He walked out to where the officers had allowed some of the news crews to come onto the property. They were a small distance from the gatehouse, but close enough for a camera to get a good shot using a zoom lens. Few words would be needed.

Frank stepped closer to the cameras and started his announcement, "At approximately 2 am this morning, an intruder broke into the gatehouse at Gull's Way, the home of Mark McCormick, the key witness for the prosecution in the Joseph Malone case. Mr. McCormick was shot twice in the attack. The intruder _has_ been apprehended and is now in police custody. We are currently working on the identity of the attacker and will release more details as they become available."

Frank paused here; knowing a million questions would be forthcoming. He didn't have long to wait. The questions started flying immediately.

"What is McCormick's condition?"

"How will this affect the DA's case against Malone?"

"Was this person hired by Malone?"

Frank never planned on answering any of the questions, but he put up his hand and took a deep breath, as if he were about to speak. The words, "At this time…," were barely out of his mouth when a uniformed officer appeared at his side and whispered something in his ear.

Frank turned again to the cameras and said, "I'm sorry, I'm needed elsewhere. We'll try to have more information for you later today."

He walked a few yards away, turned back to speak to the officer and noticed the pinnacle of the show was commencing. A gurney was pushed out of the gatehouse door and wheeled toward a close-by vehicle. He could hear the buzzing of the reporters behind him and assumed they were zooming in on the gurney. He walked closer himself and saw the black body bag on top of it. _Mark can't be feeling too comfortable in there, _he thought. It was then loaded into the back of the coroner's wagon. As the long, black car slowly moved out of the driveway, the cameras all took note of the vehicle. Then the cameras and crew were herded back to their own vehicles and the gates of the estate were closed.

00000

"I think you should be in a hospital, personally," Charlie Friedman suggested, "but I guess this will have to do." He finished putting the bandage on Mark's arm, and started packing up his things.

Hardcastle poked his nose into the safe house bedroom and addressed his friend. "Thanks, Charlie, for the late night house call. I knew I could trust you to keep this quiet for a while. He's okay, right?"

"The graze on the forehead is clean," Dr. Friedman began his assessment. "The bullet in the upper arm went right through, but some of the muscle was damaged. He's going to need some therapy for that and _no_using it for a while," he emphasized, glancing over at Mark. "The fall may have done the most damage. He's got a moderate concussion, a sprained wrist and some bruised ribs. The wrist is on the same arm as the gunshot wound. So, as long as he keeps that immobile, like I've asked, it should heal fine. That should also keep the ribs from moving too much. You'll need to check on him every few hours. Other than that, make sure he gets some rest today. Especially, since he'll have a bit of excitement tomorrow, with the trial and all."

Milt nodded, "Yeah, I'll make sure he rests today, don't worry, Charlie. Thanks again." He shook the man's hand.

Dr. Friedman started to walk out the door, but turned back to his friend. "Oh, yeah, I left him some pain medication. He can't have any right now, but once we know there are no complications with the concussion, and the shock of the whole thing wears off, he may really need it. And expect to see some major bruising, especially around the torso area. If you can't wake him up, he seems out of it, or is in extreme pain, call me and I'll come back."

Judge Hardcastle thanked him, again, and showed him out the door. He walked back into the bedroom, where McCormick was leaning drowsily against a small stack of pillows. He watched him for a few minutes, thinking what a close call it had been.

_You were supposed to protect him. Great job you did there, huh?_

_What are you talking about? He's fine, look at him._ As the judge watched, Mark shifted in the bed and a groan escaped. His features contorted in pain and then settled back with a sigh. _Okay, maybe not-so-fine. You're right, I did a lousy job protecting him. He could have been killed and it would have been my fault._

_Well, not completely your fault. He could have said 'no' to helping you._

_He did say 'no'. I just wouldn't listen. Then I made him feel guilty that he didn't want to help. It's the only reason he did this._

_McCormick's a big boy. You can't make him do anything he doesn't want to do._

_Like jump in front of a bullet. Isn't that what Frank said. That the kid would jump in front of a bullet for me. Only this time it was actually two. And if either one of them had been a few inches in another direction, he'd be dead right now._

_But he's not. _

"Judge? What the hell is going on in that head of yours, right now?" Mark interrupted the thoughts battling in the judge's mind. "You have the weirdest look on your face."

Hardcastle straightened his features and brushed off the question. He moved closer to the bed and inquired, "How're you feeling? Charlie left some pain medicine if you need some later."

"I'm fine, Judge," Mark insisted, sluggishly. "Just a little tired. And I've got a headache. Nothing a little rest won't fix."

"The truth is, kiddo, you look like shit," Hardcastle refuted.

Mark gently shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Okay, well, Frank and I are heading down to the police station to see if they've I.D.ed this guy, yet," supplied the judge. "Hopefully, we can connect him to Malone, somehow, and put another nail in his coffin. There are two cops in the other room. They've got instructions to wake you every two hours." At McCormick's protest, Hardcastle reasoned, "You've got a concussion, hotshot. And it's only for a short while, just as a precaution."

Before the judge could say any more, Mark cut in, "Judge, you gotta do me a favor."

"Sure, kid, what?" he agreed.

"Frank made that little announcement before my death debut," Mark acknowledged. "So you know it's gonna be on the news first thing in the morning, right?"

"Right."

"So, I don't want Julie and her family seeing it on the news," Mark clarified. "She's already freaked enough about this whole Malone thing, without seeing my death announced on TV. You've got to promise me that you'll get over there, first thing in the morning, and let them know what really happened. Although," Mark amended, "you don't have to tell them the I-look-like-shit part."

"Sure, kiddo, I can do that."

"Don't forget," Mark insisted.

"I won't," the judge vowed.

"Thanks, Judge. Appreciate it," Mark slurred, as his eyes drifted shut.

"No problem," Hardcastle confessed, as he backed out the door. "I'm the one who really appreciates it, kid. Everything that you do."

00000

"I can't wait to get this day over with," Julie muttered, impatiently, as she sipped her cup of coffee and finished buttering her toast.

"I know how hard it's been on you, sweetheart," Nancy said. "it'll all be over tomorrow."

"Not soon enough for me," Julie admitted. She finished her toast and started gathering her things for class. "I want to get to school early today, so I can check a few things before class starts. I hope the traffic's not too heavy."

"News is just starting," announced Matt, sitting on the couch, reading the morning paper. "The traffic report will be on shortly after that."

"I don't think I'll wait for that. I'm just gonna get going, now." She was about to leave the room when something on the TV caught her attention.

"_Top story this morning. A new development in the Joseph Malone case that may have the prosecutors scrambling at the trial tomorrow_." The news anchor reported in his finely tuned voice.

Julie put her coat and bag down and turned toward the television. Matt and Nancy had also turned intently toward the screen, which now showed a reporter standing near a large set of gates.

"_I'm here in Malibu at the estate, Gull's Way, which is the home of retired Judge Milton C. Hardcastle. It is also the residence of Mark McCormick, the UCLA law student who is the key witness for the prosecution in the case against Joe Malone. Around 2 am this morning, a still-as-yet-unnamed man broke into the gatehouse in which Mr. McCormick lives. Mr. McCormick was shot twice before the gunman fled. Police were immediately on the scene and managed to capture the fleeing attacker."_

Julie's eyes were glued to the screen.

"_Lt. Frank Harper, of the LAPD had this statement to make this morning, shortly after the incident." _

The film changed to a night scene near the gatehouse and Frank looking solemn. _"At approximately 2 am this morning, an intruder broke into the gatehouse at Gull's Way, the home of Mark McCormick, the key witness for the prosecution in the Joseph Malone case. Mr. McCormick was shot twice in the attack. The intruder has been apprehended and is now in police custody. We are currently working on the identity of the attacker and will release more details as they become available."_

Julie breathed a sigh of relief when Frank didn't actually say that Mark had been killed. But then her eyes grew round in terror as she saw the camera moving in closer to the scene behind Frank. It was, without a doubt, a body bag, and it was being loaded into the coroner's wagon.

Nancy's eyes glistened as she viewed the scene. She looked over at her husband. His face was filled with emotion, but he was gazing at Julie. Nancy spun in that direction, also, and saw Julie standing completely still, her eyes tortured.

The word "no," softly floated out of her trembling lips. She took a step backwards, as if she could move away from the atrocity of what she had just seen. She kept whispering the word "no" and backing up, until she hit the wall, a few steps behind her. Her sudden stop had her shaking her head violently, but this time the word was ripped out of her in an agonizing wail. "Nooooooo!"

As if all her strength had just left her, Julie started sliding down the wall until she landed in a crumpled ball near the floor. Her arms were wrapped around her head, which was resting on her knees. Her sobs grew in intensity, until you could feel her pain throbbing in the air.

Nancy and Matt immediately rushed over to her. Nancy pulled Julie into her arms and Matt put his arms around both of them.

00000

After what seemed like hours, Matt managed to get Nancy and Julie to their feet and over to the couch. He had shut the TV off, provided dry tissues and thrown away the used ones. He looked at his wife and daughter with a heavy heart. Julie, still sobbing her heart out over the loss of her first love. And Nancy, trying so valiantly to be strong for Julie, but feeling the pain of loss herself. He though of Milt, and wondered how he was fairing. _Knowing Milt, he's attempting to be stoic, but it must be killing him inside. _

Julie was curled into a corner of the couch, her head resting on the back and her arms wrapped around her middle, protectively. Nancy looked at her, the pain so intense it hurt. Mothers were always aware of their children's pain. But this one hurt worse, as she, too, had loved Mark. He had become almost like one of her own. She knew there was nothing to make this ache go away, except time. She reached over and gently took one of Julie's hands and held on tight.

Julie was vaguely aware of her mom sitting next to her on the couch. She felt the firm hand holding hers, reminding her of the support and love that was always available when she needed it. Well, she needed it now. She couldn't even begin to describe the agony she was feeling at the moment.

_I've known him for less than ten months, but he's made such a huge difference in my life. In the way I think about things, and see things_.

But it was over. He was gone . And he hadn't even had a chance to show everybody what he could accomplish in life. That he could overcome any and all of the obstacles that had been put in his way during his lifetime. But the ones that loved him, knew. Knew what a remarkable person he was and how empty their lives would be without him. A hollow feeling suddenly invaded her whole body at the thought that she would never see him again. She though of all the things she should have said.

As Julie glanced around the room, she spotted her purse on the chair near the front hall. A thought occurred to her and she jumped up, grabbed something from inside it and moved back to the couch. As she sat down, she opened what looked like a crumpled napkin.

Matt and Nancy looked on curiously, as fresh tears sprang to Julie's eyes and she wailed, "Oh, God!" She showed her parents the words 'I Love You, Angel!' written on the napkin in Mark's bold script. In an agonized voice, she sobbed, "I never told him. He was always telling me, but I never said it back." Her cries grew stronger. "I didn't even realize until recently just how I felt. I never got a chance to tell him. He didn't know!" The last words were followed by soulful cries.

Matt moved near his daughter and put his hand on her back. In a gentle tone, he consoled, "Sweetheart, believe me, Mark knew how you felt. You may not have said it, but it showed in everything you did."

Julie's wistful eyes glistened and she sniffed, "Do you really think so?"

Matt assured her, "I know he did."

Matt rubbed her back a few more times, then looked at his watch. "I'm supposed to be at work in a few minutes. I'd better call and let them know I'll be a bit late today." He stood up and as he did, he saw a gray truck pull up in front of the house. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed, "Milt's here."

00000

"Remember, the bottom line is that he's fine." Milt repeated to himself as he pulled up in front of the De Roche home. He knew Julie would not be thrilled that McCormick had been hurt, but if he downplayed his injuries, like McCormick had asked, she hopefully would not be too upset. _That's right, you can convince yourself that it's McCormick's fault you aren't going to tell her the complete truth. It has nothing to do with the fact that you promised her, several times, that you wouldn't let him get hurt at all. _ Milt just growled at the pesky inner voices that had been haunting him for the past five or six hours.

He took a deep breath and started up the front walk.

Matt met him at the door and showed him in. Nancy had been watching out the window and noticed Milt stop, and take a deep breath, before coming their way. "Milt must be devastated, Mark was like a son to him." She rushed over to hug him as he neared the living room.

Milt reluctantly accepted the hug, as Nancy offered, "I'm so sorry, Milt."

"You heard, already?" Hardcastle hesitated, as he looked at Julie curled up on the couch.

"About an hour ago, on the news," Matt confirmed, stepping into the room behind him.

"He's gonna kill me," Milt muttered under his breath, as he moved closer to where Julie was sitting. "I'm sorry, I didn't think it would be on the news until after eight-ish. I got tied up at the station. I didn't want you to find out this way."

Julie looked up and a new intensity shone in her eyes. "This is all your fault, you know!" she lashed out at him angrily. "He cares so much what you think of him, that he'd do anything for you, even risk his life. And look," she continued, building up steam, "now it's gotten him killed. You promised you'd keep him safe. But you didn't. You lied!" Julie burst into more tears, these filled with anger as well as pain.

Nancy tried to calm her down, and looked at Milt apologetically. Matt put a comforting hand on Milt's arm and said, "Sorry, Milt, she's just very upset right now. She doesn't mean it."

"No, she's right," Hardcastle confessed. "McCormick did this for me. I said I'd keep him safe and I didn't. I was supposed to tell you myself, so you wouldn't hear this on the news. He made me promise. And I didn't do that, either," he finished with a bit of disgust.

At his last words, Julie perked up and her eyes drilled into him. "He mentioned me? Before he…"

"Yeah, listen," the judge began as he sat down next to her. "I know what you saw on the news, but McCormick's _not_dead. We just made it seem that way to keep Malone from making another attempt on his life."

Confusion warred inside Julie as she tried to clarify, "Frank said on the news that Mark had been shot twice. So that was just made up. He's fine?"

"Frank was just stating facts," Hardcastle evaded. "He never actually told the reporters that McCormick was dead. They concluded that on their own from the coroner and the body bag."

"But he said Mark had been shot _twice_," Julie pressed.

"Um, well," Hardcastle stalled, then blurted out the truth, "He was." At Julie's startled look he amended, "But he's fine. He got more injuries falling down the stairs." The judge snapped his mouth shut, realizing he was digging himself into a bigger hole with each word.

Nancy sat down in the chair next to him and suggested, "Milt, why don't you start at the beginning and tell us exactly what happened."

Milt launched into his story of McCormick being winged by the gunmen, the capture, and the subsequent plot to make Malone believe he had been successful in eliminating the threat of Mark's testimony. He downplayed his injuries, just like McCormick had asked.

Julie still looked skeptical. "You're sure he's okay? Has he been to the hospital, seen a doctor?"

"We couldn't take the chance of bringing him to the hospital. Too many people around who could give away our little secret. But," Hardcastle assured her, "my friend, Charlie, Dr. Friedman, did come by and fix him up. Said he'd be fine."

At Julie's continued disbelieving look, Hardcastle said, "I can tell you're not gonna believe me until you talk to him yourself, are you?"

Julie nodded, concerned, and the judge acquiesced, "We've got him in a safe house with two cops near him at all times. Let me use your phone and I'll show you."

Matt brought the phone over and the judge punched in a series of numbers. After a short pause, he announced into the phone, "Jackson, yeah, it's Milt Hardcastle. Let me talk to McCormick." Another pause, and then he barked, "Well, wake him up. It's important."

Julie appeared anxious as he handed her the phone. She held the receiver up to her ear and could hear someone in the background saying, "Hey, McCormick, wake up." She heard the subsequent grumbling and tears started to fall, despite the smile that appeared on her face.

00000

Detective Jackson walked into the bedroom where Mark McCormick was finally resting peacefully. The last few hours, he had been moaning, off and on, apparently uncomfortable with all his injuries. He hated to wake him up, now that he had finally drifted off into an untroubled sleep. But Hardcastle wanted to talk to him, and no one argued with Judge Milton C. Hardcastle. Except this young man. Apparently, he was the only one who could actually get away with it.

He moved quietly next to the injured man and announced, "Hey, McCormick, wake up."

At the expected grousing, he explained, "It's Hardcastle, he wants to talk to you."

"Tell him to go away," Mark grouched, "I'm trying to sleep."

Jackson chuckled, "_I'm_ not telling him. _You_ can." And he put the phone in Mark's good hand.

Mark wrapped his hand around the phone and attempted to sit up while saying, "Whaddaya want, Hardcase?" He groaned at the pain in his midsection, which was only slightly less than the pain in his head. "Jesus, my head feels like…" He tried to catch his breath and make the room stop spinning.

Julie heard Mark's words, and the intense relief she felt, sent all her emotion into her voice. "Oh, my God, Mark, you're really okay."

Mark thought the pain in his head was playing tricks on him, but it was definitely Julie's voice on the other end of the line.

"Julie," he asked, concerned, "is everything all right?"

"It is now," she confirmed, and then she cried, "I thought you were dead!"

Mark could hear her slight sobs across the line. He felt the irritation rising in him.

"Hardcastle didn't tell you?" Mark demanded.

Julie, still overwhelmed at knowing Mark was alive, missed the tone is his question. "No, we saw it on the news a little over an hour ago. The judge just got here a few minutes ago. I wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. They showed that body bag being loaded into the coroner's car."

Mark muttered under his breath, "I'm gonna kill him." Then raised his volume a bit, "I'm so sorry, Angel. He was supposed to get to you _before_ the news came on. I didn't want you to go through that."

"Mark," Julie interrupted, "The judge said you were shot twice. He says that you're okay, but _are _you?"

"I'm fine," Mark fibbed, as a sharp pain assaulted his ribs and his head throbbed like a drum. "A little sore and a hell of a headache. Nothing to worry about, honey, okay? I just need some rest, that's all."

"All right, I just needed to hear your voice. I'll let you go, so you can rest. I'll see you tomorrow." She started to say goodbye, but called his name again, hesitantly, "Mark," she paused for a few seconds, then in a stronger voice, declared, "I love you!"

Mark was speechless for a short time, while he assimilated what she had just said. Then he sighed, "I love you, too, Angel!" He smiled at how beautiful three little words could be. Then he added, "Put Hardcastle back on the phone for a second, okay?"

Julie handed the phone back to the judge. He looked at it like it might bite him. He knew what was coming. He was about to get blasted. And for good reason. He had screwed up, royally. Julie had been devastated by the thought that McCormick was dead. Matt and Nancy looked like they had gone through hell, too. All because he hadn't gotten here in time. It was exactly what McCormick had wanted to avoid.

The judge put the phone, tentatively, up to his ear, "Hey, kiddo, how ya feeling?"

Bracing himself for the explosion he knew was coming, he was astounded when all he heard was McCormick say softly, "Thanks, Judge."

He put the phone down, amazed. The kid could still manage to surprise him.

00000

"The prosecutor is putting Mark on the stand, first thing," Hardcastle whispered to Julie as they walked into the courtroom. "The last thing we need is the defense getting wind of him, sitting in the back room, alive."

They both took their seats, a few rows behind the prosecution, and waited, along with all the other curiosity seekers. There were more than a few people wondering how the DA was going to continue with the case, without Mark testifying.

It was only a matter of minutes before the presiding judge, Harold Waters, came in, a few opening words were said, and the prosecutor was told to begin.

He stood up and said, "The prosecution would like to call Mark McCormick to the stand, please."

A loud murmuring started in the courtroom and the defense attorney stood right up. "Objection, Your Honor. Mr. McCormick was killed last night in a break in at his home. Prosecution can not use pre-recorded testimony in this case."

Judge Waters tilted his head and inquired, "And how did you come about this information, Mr. Reynolds?"

"Your Honor, it was all over the news this morning," he persisted.

"You know, Mr. Reynolds," Judge Waters scolded, "you really shouldn't believe everything you hear on the news. The media is known to be inaccurate, much of the time."

Julie leaned over and whispered to Hardcastle, "I take it, he knows."

"Yeah," Hardcastle whispered back. "We had to. But since there was no change in the witness list, we didn't have to inform the defense. We hoped they'd think it was just an oversight that McCormick's name was still on it. Apparently, they did."

"Mr. Nichols," Judge Waters addressed the ADA trying the case, "You may continue."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Brian Nichols acknowledged, then nodded to the bailiff standing by the judge's bench. "Mr. McCormick, please."

The bailiff opened the door next to him and a vast silence descended over the room. Julie's eyes strained to see, as Mark walked into the courtroom. He had on dress slacks, a button down shirt, and a tie. But she could hardly say he looked good. He had a good sized bandage on his forehead, a huge bruise on his cheek, and his arm was wrapped up and held close to his body by a sling. He was moving slowly, like someone made of glass.

Julie looked at the judge and softly accused, "You said he was fine. That doesn't look fine. He looks like hell."

"Yeah, I know. But he didn't want me to tell you that," Hardcastle assuaged his conscience.

When Mark had settled himself in the witness chair and been sworn in, Judge Waters asked, "Are you okay to do this Mr. McCormick? Prosecution could save your testimony for another day, if you're not up to it."

At this suggestion, Mark sat up straighter and his voice grew strong, "No sir, Your Honor. We need to do this, now."

"Okay," Judge Waters consented, "Mr. Nichols, you may begin your questioning."

00000

Mark spent the better part of the morning on the stand and was then sent back to the witness room. Julie was chomping at the bit to see him, but Hardcastle told her she'd have to wait until the presiding judge called a recess. She wasn't sure she could hold out much longer, when lunch recess was finally called.

Hardcastle stood up and guided her to the back hallway. "Most folks can't get back here," he informed her, "but I know a few people." He winked at her.

When they stopped outside the witness room, the officer guarding the door called inside, "Hey, McCormick, you've got company."

Mark appeared in the doorway and a huge smile lit his face. Julie's face mirrored his. She moved forward, but faltered, "I'm almost afraid to touch you. I don't want to hurt you."

Mark stepped up to her and slid his good arm around her waist. "Your touch could never hurt me, Angel, in any way."

Julie reached up to touch his face. One of her hands caressed the bruise and the other brushed the bandage, on it's way into his hair. Her eyes filled up as she realized how close she had come to losing him.

Mark's head shook slightly as he pleaded, "No, don't cry. I'm okay. I really am. Especially now that I've got you in my arms, again." He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.

Julie's arms tightened around Mark, until she heard the inadvertent groan escape his lips.

"What did I do?" she agonized, as she saw the pain on Mark's face.

"You didn't do anything, Julie, really," Mark denied. "The ribs are just a little sore, that's all."

"The ribs?" she gave an accusing look at the judge, who was busy looking elsewhere. "What happened to the ribs?"

"They just got a little bruised when I fell down the stairs," Mark explained. "That's all, nothing broken. I promise."

Julie still didn't look satisfied, so Mark leered at her, shamelessly, and suggested, "If it will make you feel better, I'll let you play doctor later on. You can check out every inch of me and minister to all my needs."

Julie shook her head and laughed, "Oh, I guess you really are okay."

The judge snickered, then turned away to give them a small bit of privacy.

Down the hallway, Joseph Malone, having a private conversation with his attorney, had been watching the scene with interest.

"Who is that girl?" he demanded of his lawyer. "And why didn't I know about her? She could have been very useful to me."

"Mr. Malone," his attorney scolded, "I don't want to know about anything like that. I'm defending you. I'm only concerned with information that will help your case."

Malone knew he had been defeated this time. But he had only been charged with the drug trafficking and car thefts. They still couldn't prove he'd had anything to do with disappearances or deaths. And, there was very little chance of linking yesterday's attack to him. He had been very careful about that. He'd get a good bit of time inside, no doubt. _But when I get out, McCormick will pay. _

00000

"Mark, are you sure it's a good idea for you to be going to class?" Julie voiced her concern as they walked through the campus. "You're not looking too good at the moment. You spent all morning being grilled in court. It's only one class, you've already missed all your other ones."

"You just said it, it's just one class," Mark repeated. "Plus, I've got Professor Fitzgerald for two classes this term. He can tell me what I've missed in the other one, as well. I'd hate to get too far behind. It could affect my grade."

"Right," Julie chuckled. "Don't want to mess with perfection."

"Well, _I _was just talking about my grade," bragged Mark, "If you want to talk about _me_…" he let the sentence dangle.

Julie rolled her eyes. "You really need to do something about this inferiority complex, you know."

As they continued through the campus, Mark observed, "I may actually get a complex if people don't stop staring at me."

Julie had noticed, too, that many people were indeed gawking at Mark with wide eyes. "They announced you were dead on the news yesterday. They even ran a picture and mentioned where you went to school. I'm surprised staring is all they're doing."

Mark was about to reply, when he heard the stuttering of his name, "M-M-Mark? My goodness, it is you!"

He looked around to see the face of his old history professor and friend, Robert Sturgis. It was a bit paler than usual and his mouth was hanging somewhat open, in shock.

"Professor Sturgis," Mark greeted. "It's good to see you."

"It's _surprising _to see you," he stated. "Especially since you supposedly died yesterday morning. I assume there's an explanation for your resurrection. Or is this an angel," he indicated Julie, "taking you away?"

"Oh, definitely an angel," Mark grinned at Julie, then introduced them. "But we're both staying on earth for a while. And I testified this morning. The death thing was just faked to buy me some time."

"Doesn't look like it was faked that much," observed Sturgis. "You're a bit of a mess right now."

"Just Malone's feeble attempt to keep me from testifying. It didn't work though. I'm actually heading to a class right now."

"You look like you should be in a hospital, or at least home in bed, having someone take care of you," Sturgis scolded.

"Julie's a nurse," Mark informed his friend. "She'll make sure I don't overdo it."

"Okay, then get to class," said Sturgis. "And you, young lady, take good care of him. Don't let him get into any more trouble, for a few weeks, at least."

"I'll try," Julie laughed. "But, I'm not sure that's entirely possible with him."

Professor Sturgis smiled, indulgently, "You may be right there. But, make an attempt anyway. It was very nice to meet you."

Julie returned the thought and they continued on.

As Mark opened the classroom door, Julie handed Mark his bag, which she had insisted she carry, and gave him a small kiss. She whispered, "I'm going to find out about all _my_ missed work and I'll be waiting right outside when your class is done. I love you."

Mark thought he'd never tire of hearing her say that. "I love you, too." He turned around to enter the classroom and saw all eyes on him.

A collective cry of, "Mark" or "McCormick" rang through the air, as he made his way to a seat.

Mark smiled slyly and apologized, "Sorry, I'm late. Busy morning."

Professor Fitzgerald shook his head and gasped, "Mr. McCormick, we were just discussing when your _funeral_ might be, and in you walk."

Mark chuckled, "To quote Mark Twain, 'The report of my death was a great exaggeration.'"

"Maybe not so exaggerated, by the looks of him," one student observed.

"An explanation, perhaps," suggested Professor Fitzgerald.

Mark nodded and indicated his bandages; "These are courtesy of Joe Malone. The cops thought it was a good idea to let him believe he was successful. That way I'd actually make it to court."

"Which you did?" Fitzgerald inquired.

Mark nodded, hoping they could get back to class. He was really tired and talking didn't help his head any.

Unfortunately, many of the students had questions. But one voice rose above the rest.

"What about _her_?" Veronica's deep voice pestered. "You two looked awfully cozy. I thought you'd dumped her."

Mark just grinned, "Not in a million years." He looked beseechingly over at the professor, hoping he'd get the message.

He did. "Well, welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. McCormick. Shall we get started?"

00000

"I hope Aunt Patsy wasn't too upset when she heard about my resurrection," Mark said a few days after the trial.

"Actually," Nancy started, "Steve said that she felt absolutely horrible when she heard you had been killed. She may not have wanted you near her family, but she certainly never wanted you dead."

Mark stared out at the ocean, thoughts of Patsy crying over him, not really forming in his mind.

"Even with all her faults," Matt began, "she loves her nieces, and wouldn't want any of them upset over something like this."

Mark nodded, able to reconcile that more easily. He looked around at the group sitting on the patio near the pool. The jury had come back with a guilty verdict for Malone, just yesterday, and Hardcastle had felt like celebrating. He had invited Julie's family over, as well as Frank and Claudia. Hardcastle had provided the chili, Claudia the lasagna, and Nancy had supplied the desserts. Now that everyone had been fed, they were free to relax for the first time in a long while.

Debbie, with her ever-present need to be the center of attention, piped up dramatically, "Well. I was _quite _upset when I heard the news. And in the middle of class, yet. My _Intro to Law_ class started discussing how the DA was going to prosecute Malone with the key witness dead. I broke down crying, right there in front of everyone. The teacher wanted to know what was wrong, so I _had_ to tell him. About how Mark was like family, and about Julie and him. Then when I got home and realized he was fine…" Debbie paused for effect, "I felt so guilty. I wasn't sure if I had put anyone in danger."

"Nah," Frank jumped into the conversation, "at that point Malone thought Mark was dead, so he wouldn't have needed to use Julie for anything. And once Malone found out Mark was alive, it was too late. Mark had already testified."

"Well, I, for one, am glad it's over," Julie sighed heavily. "I'm not sure I could go through that again."

Mark reached over with his good hand and took hers. "I'm so sorry, Angel. I didn't mean for that to happen." He smiled apologetically at her, then gave Hardcastle a covert glance. The judge looked back with a knowing grin. Neither one had mentioned the short conversation on the phone, but Mark knew that the judge understood what had happened. He also knew that his secret was safe.

"It's all done and over with," Hardcastle boomed, happily. "Malone is behind bars, and for quite a few years, what with resisting arrest and firing on the cops, not to mention all the drugs we found in that car. Yep, nice job, McCormick. Appreciate the help."

"Just remember some of the consequences," Mark indicated his hand and arm, tightly bound to his side, "when you're looking for Tonto to come along on another adventure."

Hardcastle sighed and shook his head, "No, I think it's time we hang up the saddles for good. Even the Lone Ranger's got to retire sometime."

Mark looked dubiously at the judge. "You promise?"

The judge looked thoughtful, but nodded his head.

All heads turned when Frank burst out laughing. "I've got twenty bucks that says those saddles don't even gather any dust, before they're thrown back on the horses."

Mark just groaned, but replied, "I'm not taking that bet. I know Hardcase too well."

Judge Hardcastle made noises of denial, but the twinkle in his eye told the real story.

00000

90


End file.
